History of the Winchesters
by Rinoneechan17
Summary: Sam and Dean call in Grace and Bobby for help with their strange case. Which turns out to be a trickster! Rated M for gore violence and language. Some Spoilers!
1. Family Reunion

**Chapter 1! i've always wanted to start a Supernatural fanfic so let's see how it goes**

**Disclaimer: i do not own Supernatural or any myths or legends**

**Rated M for language and lots of gore violence**

**enjoy and R&R**

* * *

><p><strong>July 10, 2006, Manning, Colorado...<strong>

John Winchester strolled in the darkness towards a parked Impala, a young teenage girl following behind him. He stopped at least fifty feet from the car, making out two figures inside the car. He turned towards the girl, "You sure this is a good idea?"

"It's the best one you've made since you decided to not go anywhere near the boys," the girl replied, throwing attitude in her expression and voice. She was quite beautiful for her age, making her seem a bit older. She dressed in jeans tucked into black knee-high boots, a maroon v-neck sweater with a black leather jacket. Her dark brown hair glowed black against her pale tan skin; her side-swept bangs tucked behind her right ear. John sighed, exhaustion wearing down on his demeanor. "Let's get this overwith, then." **  
><strong>

He marched up to the driver's side window of the Impala and knocked, startling the two men inside. John bent down and smiled at them, relishing their shocked faces. The driver had tan skin and short dirty blond hair; the other looked much younger with longish brown hair. The boys had similar faces to John, like they were father and sons. The driver gasped, "Dad? Grace?"

Grace, the girl, waved as John entered the car, she following suit. She slammed to door shut behind her, "Sam...Dean."

Sam, the boy with the longish hair turned in his seat, "What are you two doing here? Dad, are you all right?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," he nodded then turned grim. "Look, I read the news about Daniel. I got here as fast as I could. We saw you two up at his place."

"Why didn't you come in?" Sam asked.

"You know why."

"We had to make sure you weren't followed by anyone...or anything," Grace added. John smirked, "Nice job of covering your tracks by the way."

"Yeah, well, we learned from the best," Dean replied, although John ignored it.

"Wait, so you came all the way out here for this Elkins guy?" Sam asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," John nodded, feeling glum. "He was...he was a good man. He taught me a hell of a lot about hunting."

"You never mentioned him to us," Grace pointed out, having heard this for the first time.

John shifted his jaw, "We had a-we had kind of a falling out. I hadn't seen him in years. I should look at that."

Dean followed his father's gaze to the letter in his hand. Dean handed it over and John began reading it aloud, "'If you're reading this, I'm already dead.' That son of a bitch."

"What is it?" Dean glanced at the letter.

"He had it the whole time," John skimmed the rest of the letter.

"Are you sure?" Grace leaned over to read the letter as well. "Damn, he did."

"Wait, what?" Sam demanded.

John ignored them, "When you searched the place, did you-did you see a gun, a Colt revolver? Did you see it?"

"Uh, there was an old case, but it was empty," Dean stammered, surprised by his father's anxiety.

"They have it."

"You mean whatever killed Elkins?" Dean frowned, confused.

"We got to pick up their trail. Grace, get out," John followed Grace out of the car.

"Wait, you want us to come with you?" Sam called out for him. John leaned in on the driver's side window, "If Elkins was telling the truth, then we got to find this gun."

"The gun? Why?" Sam pressed.

"Because it's important, that's why."

"Dad, we don't even know what these things are yet!"

"They were what Danny Elkins killed best-vampires."

"Vampires?" Dean echoed. "I thought there was no such thing?"

"You never even mentioned them, Dad," Sam pointed out.

"I thought they were extinct. I had thought Elkins and others had wiped them out," John shook his head. "I was wrong. Most vampire lore is crap. A cross won't repel them, sunlight won't kill them, neither will a stake to the heart. But the bloodlust-that part's true. They need fresh human blood to survive. They were once people, so you won't know it's a vampire until it's too late."

"Dad," Grace shook his shoulder. "We should go. Find a place to sleep."

"You're right," he turned back to the boys. "Let's go."

**Motel...**

Dean and Sam took each bed, asleep and fully clothed. Grace leaned on the table, holding a cup of coffee in her hand as her eyes started to flutter close. John held the police scanner against his forehead in both hands as he leaned on his knees. He quickly turned it off and grabbed his jacket and bumping Grace's shoulder, "Hey, wake up! Sam. Dean. Let's go."

"Hmm-hmm," Dean rustled awake.

"Picked up a police call."

"What happened?" Grace dumped her coffee down the skin in the mini-kitchen.

"A couple called 911. Found a body in the street. Cops got there, everyone was missing. It's the vampires," he stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed towards the door, Grace following.

"How do you know?" Sam rubbed his eyes.

"Just follow me, okay?" John ordered, opening the door as Grace gave a warning look at Sam.

"Vampires," Dean shook his head. "It gets funnier everytime I hear it."

**Following morning of July 11, 2006, back road...**

Dean, Sam, and Grace waited by the Impala as they noticed John walking back from talking to the police. Sam muttered, "I don't see why we couldn't have gone over with him."

"Oh, don't tell me its already starting," Dean groaned.

"What's starting?"

"Grow up," Grace scolded then turned to John as he approached. "What do you got?"

"It's them alright. It looks like they're heading west. We're gonna have to double back to get around that detour."

"How can you be so sure?" Sam narrowed his eyes.

"Sam...," Dean and Grace warned.

"I just wanna know we're going in the right direction," Sam insisted.

"We are," John assured.

"How do you know?"

John stared at him, taking in Sam's doubt. He pulled out something from his pocket, "I found this."

Dean grabbed it and held out a canine tooth, "It's a...vampire fang."

"Not fangs-teeth. A second set descends when they attack. Anymore questions?" John asked Sam who remained silent. "Alright, let's get out of here. We're losing sunlight. Come on, Grace. Hey, and Dean, why don't you touch up your car before you rust? I wouldn't have given you the damn thing if I thought you were gonna ruin it."

Grace hopped in the truck as John started it's engine, driving past the Impala and heading out to the detour, the boys following suit. They rode in silence for awhile, and when she couldn't stand it anymore. Grace blurted, "Was it really a good idea to drag them along like this, Dad?"

"Hey, this was your idea," John pointed out. "I didn't want them involved, but you insisted we meet with them."

"So they could help us. Dad, I know you're not on the best terms with Sam right now, but still...you don't have to keep treating them like they're kids."

"Hey! Don't you talk to me like that," John snapped. "You have no right to talk like that when you're still a child yourself!"

"I'm 17! I've been on more hunts with you than they have in their entire lives!" she gestured to the Impala behind them. "You have me handle monsters and shit and yet you-"

"That's enough, Grace! I'm tired of hearing it...every...damn...time! I've got my own way of doing things and you and the boys are gonna have to suck it up, alright?"

Grace sighed and turned to face forward, "Yes sir."

John chewed the inside of his cheek then reached into his pocket for his phone and tossed it into Grace's lap, "Call Dean."

"And tell him what?" she started dialing.

"Because we got the vampires' trail. Tell him to pull off at the next exit."

Grace held it up to her ear, "Hey, Dean. Dad says he thinks we got the vampires' trial. Yeah...yeah, pull off at the next exit. Alright."

"Now, was that so hard?"

"Dad, I don't question you like Sam does, but I don't blindly follow you like Dean does," she placed the phone in the cup holder.

"I know. You're smart, careful...and a damn good hunter," he glanced at her, staring meaningfully. "I...just wish you didn't have to live this life."

"I know," she nodded, understanding his meaning. She glanced past him out the window and frowned, "What is Sam doing?"

John turned his head towards his left and mimicked Grace's frown as the Impala sped up and swerved as it parked across the road, blocking the truck. John cursed as he hit the brake just inches before hitting the car. Grace jumped out, following her dad as Sam stomped out. John raised his shoulders questioningly, "What the hell was that?"

"We need to talk," Sam demanded.

"About what?"

"About everything," Sam squinted his eyes. "Where are we going, Dad? What's the big deal about this gun?"

"Sammy, come on, we can Q & A after we kill all the vampires," Dean insisted.

"Come on, Sam, he's right. Let's just go," Grace supported, trying to tug John back.

"Last time we saw you, you said it was too dangerous to be together. Now, out of the blue, you need our help," Sam ranted as John stared him in the eye and Dean and Grace sighed helplessly. "Now, obviously something big is going down and we want to know what!"

"Get back in the car," John ordered.

"No."

John stepped closer, "I said get back in the damn car."

"Yeah, and I said no."

"Alright, you made your point, tough guy. Look, we're all tired, we can talk about this later," Dean grabbed Sam and shoved him towards the car. "Sammy, I mean it, come on."

"Come on, Dad," Grace tugged him back to the truck. Sam turned towards the car, "This is why I left in the first place."

"What'd you say?" John stopped as Grace released her grip on him from shock.

Sam turned to face him, "You heard me."

"Yeah, you left. Your brother, sister, and me-we needed you. You walked away, Sam," John shoved him in the shoulder. "You walked away!"

"Stop it!" Dean demanded.

"Dad! Sam!" Grace pulled on John's jacket.

"You're the one who said 'don't come back', Dad. You're the one who closed that door, not me!" Sam raised his voice as John grabbed his collar. "You were just pissed off you couldn't control me anymore!"

"I said stop it!" Dean tried to pull them apart.

"Stop it! That's enough!" Grace dove in and slapped John and Sam. "I said that's enough! Sam, get back in the damn car!"

Sam shifted his jaw and walked back to the Impala. Grace turned towards John, "That means you, too."

She turned back to Dean as John stomped away. They both stared and shook their heads and walked back to their angry partners. Dean muttered, "Terrific."

**July 12, 2006, Vampires Lair...**

The Winchesters watched a vampire approach in a car then swiftly entered the barn, sunlight shielded by clouds. Dean huffed, "Son of a bitch. So they're really not afraid of the sun."

"Direct sunlight hurts like a nasty sunburn. The only way to kill them is by beheading. And, yeah, they sleep during the day. It doesn't mean they won't wake up," Grace gazed about the windows in the barn.

"So, I guess walking right in is not our best option."

"Actually, that's the plan," John smiled at the barn. "Come on. Lets gear up."

They headed back to their cars. Dean opened the trunk and lifted the special compartment, propping it up with a shotgun. John pulled his tailgate down and pulled out a gun locker hidden within the bed of the truck, everything inside neatly organized. Grace strapped a knife to her right thigh and ankle, and hit two inside her jacket, then pulled out a medium-sized machete. Dean grabbed a machete, "Hey, Dad, I got an extra machete if you need one."

John pulled out a large, sharp machete, "Think I'm okay, thanks."

"Wow," Dean nodded, impressed as he and Sam finished strapping their knives on. John closed his gun locker as Grace tied her hair back in a low side ponytail, "So...you kids really want to know about this Colt?"

Dean and Sam stopped and exchanged glances with Grace who nodded, "Yes sir."

"It's just a story...a legend really. Well, I thought it was. Never really believed it until I read Daniel's letter. Back in 1835, when Halley's comet was overhead, the same night those men died at the Alamo, they say Samuel Colt made a gun...a special gun. He made it for a hunter-a man like us, only on horseback. The story goes, he made 13 bullets. This hunter used the gun a half dozen times before he disappeared, the gun along with him. Somehow, Daniel got his hands on it. They say this gun can kill anything."

"Kill anything, like supernatural anything?" Dean asked.

"Like the demon," Sam realized. Grace lowed her gaze, feeling isolated from this topic.

"Yeah, the demon. Ever since I picked up it's trail, I've been looking for a way to destroy that thing. Find the gun...we may have it."

**Inside the barn...**

The Winchesters sneaked inside. John took off to find the gun as the boys and Grace sneaked through the sleeping vampires, all bunked out on hammocks. Dean tried to duck under a hammock, but hit a beer bottle and nudged the sleeping vampire. He recoiled and gripped his machete, preparing to strike. But the vampire smacked his lips and groaned, its sleep undisturbed. Dean glanced up and found Grace standing on the other side of the vampire, her machete in the air. She glanced at Dean and gestured for him to continue following Sam as she made sure the vampire wasn't disturbed. Grace turned and hurried after Dean as they joined Sam who crouched beside an unconscious woman with a bloodstain on her shirt. They whipped their heads over their shoulder, hearing a loud door-slam. "There's more."

Dean quietly walks over to the mesh cage and fiddles with the padlock, noticing lots of tied up people. He grabbed a crowbar as Sam begins untying the woman. Dean quickly popped off the hinge of the cage and froze; Sam and Grace did the same. Dean peered out and sighed in relief as the vampires remained undisturbed. Sam turned back to the woman as she started to stir awake, "Hey, hey, shh. I'm here to help."

The woman's eyes snapped open and began to scream inhumanly at him, awaking the other vampires. Grace ran over and swung her machete down, beheading the woman and ending her screams of rage. They all froze then heard their father's voice, "Run!"

They took off, heading out of the barn as the vampires followed, stopping short of the sunlight streaming through the front entrance. They kept running till they reached their parked cars, turning around as they anxiously awaited their father. Dean panted, "Dad!"

"Dad?" Grace called out. They turned to their right as John came running up to them, unharmed. Grace let out a sigh and hugged him. John released her, "They won't follow. They'll wait till tonight. Once a vampire get's your scent, it's for life."

"What the hell do we do now?" Dean asked rhetorically.

"You've gotta find the nearest funeral home, that's what." Dean blinked in surprise, turning his questioning gaze towards Grace who shrugged.

**Motel room...**

Sam paced the room as John worked at the table, Grace taking a nap on one of the beds, her backed to them. Sam muttered to himself, "It shouldn't be taking this long. I should go help."

"Dean's got it," John replied as he scribbled down some notes. Sam stopped then continued pacing. John set his pencil down, "Sammy."

"Yeah?"

"I don't think I ever told you this, but, the day you were born, you know what I did?"

"No."

"I put a hundred bucks into a savings account for you. I did the same thing for your brother. It was a college fund. And every month I'd put in another hundred dollars until...anyway, my point is, Sam, that...this is never the life I wanted for you."

"Then why'd you get so mad when I left?"

"You gotta understand something. After your Mother passed, all I saw was evil, everywhere," he explained as Grace opened her eyes and listened. "And all I cared about was...was keeping you boys alive. I wanted you prepared...ready. So somewhere along the line, I, uh...I stopped being your father. And I-I became your...your drill sergeant. Ask Grace, she gets it everyday we're together."

Sam gazed at Grace, then sat down across from John as he continued. "So, when you said that you wanted to go away to school, all I could think about, my only thought was that you were going to be alone...vulnerable. Sammy, it just-it never occurred to me what you wanted. I just couldn't accept the fact that you and me-we're just different."

Sam laughed ironically. John smiled, "What?"

Sam shook his head, "We're not different. Not anymore. With what happened to Mom and Jess...we probably have a lot more in common than just about anyone."

"I guess you're right, son."

Grace rubbed the bed sheets between her fingers as she glistened the lightened air in the room. Sam gave an extra laugh, "Hey, Dad? Whatever happened to that college fund?"

"Spent it on ammo."

They continued laughing as the door opened, Dean shaking off his tough demeanor, "Woo! Man, there's some heavy security to protect a bunch of dead guys."

"Did you get it?" Grace got up, leaning on her elbows. Dean pulls out a paper bag and waves at Grace. She groaned, getting up as Dean pulled the bottle full of red liquid out and handing it to John. He smiled, examining it then looking up at Dean, "You know what to do."

**Back road...**

John, Sam, and Grace watched as Dean was approached by a tall, female vampire. She backhanded him as another vampire appeared. The female vampire grabbed Dean by his cheeks and lifted him up off the ground, she kissed him and Grace released the arrow in her crossbow, hitting the female vampire in the chest. John's arrow hit the other one. They, along with Sam, stomped out of their hiding place as the female vampire released Dean, "Damn it. Barely even stings."

"Give it time, sweetheart. That arrow's soaked in dead man's blood. It's like poison to you, isn't it?"

The vampire's stare lingered then her eyes rolled back in her head as her body fell back. Dean caught her as he was getting up. "Load her up," John ordered, pulling out his machete. "I'll take care of this one."

Sam backed away, Grace following him as they went to help Dean with the unconscious vampire. John held his machete up and striked downwards, decapitating the male vampire in one stroke.

**Road side...**

The female vampire was tied to a tree near the bonfire the Winchesters started. John handed Dean a bundle to burn, "Toss this on the fire. Saffron, skunk cabbage, and trillium-it'll block our scent, and hers, until we're ready."

"Stuff stinks," Dean replied as he tossed it into the fire.

"Well, that's the idea. Dust your clothes with the ashes and you'll stand a chance of not being detected."

"You sure they'll come after her?" Sam asked, doubtfully.

"They will," Grace answered. "Vampires mate for life. She means more to the leader than the gun."

"But the blood sickness is going to wear off soon, so you don't have a lot of time," John pointed out.

"Half an hour ought to do it."

"Then I want you out of the area as fast you can. Take Grace with you."

"What?" Grace's jaw dropped.

"But-" Sam started.

"Whoa, Dad, you can't take care of them all yourself."

"I'll have her and the Colt," he reassured them.

"But after. We're gonna meet up, right? Use the gun together. Right?" Grace shuffled forward, pressing the questions, but John refused to look at any of them.

"You're leaving again, aren't you?" Sam narrowed his eyes. "You still want to go after the demon alone? You know, I don't get you. You can't treat us like this."

"Like what?" John demanded.

"Like children!" Grace snapped.

"You are my children. All of you. I'm trying to keep you safe."

"Dad, all due respect, but, uh, that's a bunch of crap," Dean snapped, surprising all of them. John blinked, "Excuse me?"

"You know what Sammy and I have been hunting. Hell, you sent us on a few hunting trips yourself. Even Grace has been on a few!" Dean pointed out. "You can't be that worried about keeping us safe."

"It's not the same thing, Dean."

"Then what is it? Why do you want us out of the big fight?" Dean pressed on.

"This demon...it's a bad son of a bitch. I can't make the same moves if I'm worried about keeping you alive," he gave a pointed look at Grace.

"You mean you can't be reckless," Dean blurted.

"Look, I don't expect to make it out of this fight in one piece. Your Mother's death...it almost killed me," his eyebrows furred. "I can't watch my children die, too. I won't."

"What happens if you die? Dad, what happens if you die, we could've done something about it. You know, I've been thinking, I-I think maybe Sammy's right about this one. I think we should do this together. We're stronger as a family, Dad, all of us, we just are, you know it."

"We're running out of time. You just do your job and you get out of the area with Grace. That's an order."

"But, Dad-"

"That's an _order_," John silenced Grace then walked off. When he was gone, Grace threw the piece of skunk cabbage in her hand through the forest. "Damn it! We cannot let Dad do this!"

"What do propose we do?" Dean asked, frowning from frustration.

"I dunno. Rebel?" she groaned angrily, then stopped, gaining a idea. "Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean, what if...what if we hurried to the nest, wiped out the vamps and freed their food then went over to help Dad?"

"He told us to run," Sam reminded.

"Come on, Sam...when have you ever truly listened to Dad, huh?" she insisted as the boys exchanged glances.

**Highway...**

John stood with a knife at Kate, the female vampire's throat as he approached the leader of the vampire gang. He set the Colt down and backed up, letting John bend down to get it. Kate tugged at her bounds then turned and hit John's face, sending him against the headlights of his truck as he dropped his gun. The leader strolled over and backhanded John against the driver's side window, knocking him unconscious. Suddenly, a female vampire gasped as a crossbow arrow protruded from her chest. The vampires turned their gaze the woods as the boys and Grace emerged, firing arrows soaked in dead man's blood and pulling out machetes. Grace beheaded two as Dean slid in front of a car while the leader vampire hit Sam grabbed him by the throat, stopping Dean and Grace. "Don't. I'll break his neck. Put the blades down."

Dean and Grace exchanged glances. The vampire tightened his grip, choking Sam. Grace and Dean dropped their knives. The vampire sneered, "You people. Why can't you just leave us alone? We have as much right to live as you do."

"I don't think so."

The vampire turned around, startled. John raised the Colt in hand and pulled the trigger and shot the vampire right in between he eyes. Sam immediately spun away from the vampire's grip as he stumbled around, blood seeping from his wound. Kate cried out, "LUTHOR!"

The vampire Luthor dropped to his knees and fell to his side, dead. Grace and the others stared in amazement as John smiled, ignoring Kate's aura of rage and hatred aimed at him. She made a lunge but another vampire held her back, forcing her and the other vampires to retreat. John watched them leave then turned back to smile at his children.

**July 13, 2006, Motel Room...**

Dean and Sam packed their things into their separate bags as Grace organized all the notes into a folder and John's journal. The door opened and they all stopped as John walked in, very unamused. "So...children..."

Dean and Sam turned to face him as Grace set the papers down, "Yes sir."

"You ignored a direct order back there," he glanced back at Grace, who did her best to stand her ground.

"Yes sir."

"Yeah, but we saved your ass," Dean retorted. Sam and Grace gave him warning, scared looks but Dean ignored them as John stared at him.

"You're right."

"I am?" Dean's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"It scares the hell out of me. You three are all I've got," he glanced back at Grace. "But I guess we are stronger as a family. So...we go after this damn thing...together."

"Yes sir," the three of them replied in unison.

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><p><strong>end of chapter one!<strong>

**i hoped you liked it! don't forget to review!  
><strong>


	2. Meg

**chapter 2! I'll really try to get into Grace as a character :)**

**Disclaimer: i do not own Supernatural**

**Rated M for gore and language**

**enjoy and R&R**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Recap of last chapter...<em>**

_"I am?" Dean's eyebrows lifted in surprise. _

_"It scares the hell out of me. You three are all I got," he glanced back at Grace. "But I guess we are stronger as a family. So...we go after this damn thing...together." _

_"Yes sir," the three of them replied in unison._

**July 13, 2006, Manning, Colorado, motel room...**

Grace Winchester flipped through several notes from her father's journal. John sat at a desk, surrounded by information while Dean stood near him and Grace, and Sam leaned against the kitchen counter. Grace turned a page, "This is it?"

"Yup. This is everything I know," he gestured to everything around them. "We've been looking for this thing our whole lives, right? Not a trace of it until a year ago. For the first time, I picked up it's trail."

"And that's when you took off?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," he glanced at Sam. "That's right. The demon must of come out of hiding or hibernation."

Dean walked over, gripping the back of Grace's chair, "Alright, so what's this trail you found?"

"It starts in Arizona, then New Jersey, California. Houses burn down to the ground. Its going after families, just like us."

Grace swallowed hard, trying to hide her secret jealousy as Sam pushed off the counter and asked, "Families with infants?"

"Yeah, the night of the kid's six month birthday."

"I was six months old that night?"

"Exactly six months."

"So, basically, this demon is going after these kids for some reason, same way it came for me?" Sam huffed a laugh after no response from John. "So, Mom's death, Jessica-it's all because of me?"

"We don't know that, Sam," Dean pointed out.

"Oh, really, cause I'd say we're pretty damn sure, Dean!"

"For the last time, what happened to them is not your fault," Dean snapped.

Sam raised his voice, stepping closer, "Yeah, you're right, it's not my fault, but it's my problem!"

"No, it's not your problem. It's our problem!"

"Shut up!" Grace turned in her seat, catching them both off guard.

"Grace, stay out of this!" Dean warned, pointing his finger at her.

"Oh, grow up, Dean!" she tossed the notes down on the desk. "And Sam, suck it up! We need to focus on this mission!"

"You have no idea what we've been through, Grace!" Sam yelled at her. "You don't know what we're dealing with and you never will!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're not even fucking part of the family!"

"Okay," John got up and stepped in between them. "That's enough."

Sam panted and walked back to the counter as Grace plopped back down on her chair and buried her head in her hands. John rubbed the stubble on his chin as Sam started pacing, "So, why is it doing it? What does it want?"

"Look, I wish I had more answers, I do. I've always been one step behind it. Look, I've never gotten there in time to save...," his voice trailed off.

"Alright, so how do we find it before it hits again?" Dean asked, changing the subject.

"There are signs. Actually, it took awhile but Grace found a pattern."

Grace lifted her head up and swept her hand over her face, keeping herself calm, "The signs usually happen days before the fire...cattle deaths, temperature fluctuations, electrical storms..."

"After that...I went back and checked, and...," John glanced at Dean.

"These things happened in Lawrence," Dean realized.

"The week before your Mother died," he turned and looked at Sam. "And in Palo Alto...before Jessica. And these signs-they're starting again."

"Where?" Sam demanded.

"Salvation, Iowa," Grace informed.

**July 14, 2006, Outside Salvation, Iowa...**

John rolled down the road with the Impala behind him, Grace sat silently int he passenger's seat. John glanced at her then turned back to the road, "You know Sam didn't mean what he said."

"Yes, he did," she grumbled, staring out the window. "Look, Dad, I know...I know I'm your daughter and Dean and Sam's sister, but...I'm not Mary's daughter. With this vengeance thing on the demon, I have no right to be a part of the mission. I'm just an outsider. This is a Winchester thing. It doesn't involve me. Sam was right...I'm not part of the family."

"Yes, you are," John emphasized. "Grace...I know you're hurt but you gotta understand. Even though this is about a demon that terrorized us since before you were born and even though you may not be Mary's daughter...you're still a Winchester. My flesh and blood. You've helped me alot with finding this demon, and I greatly appreciate it. Hell, Grace...I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Probably be in that Luthor guy's stomach," she muttered.

John barked in laughter, "Yeah, I guess you're right. Don't get so worked up about it, okay? After this...you can talk to Sam, I'm sure he's kicking himself for what he said."

Grace turned to smile at him, "Thank you, Dad."

"No problem," he reached over and rubbed her arm. As he pulled his hand back to the wheel, John's cellphone rang. Grace picked it up and brought it to her ear, "Hello? Hey, Caleb, how are-? What? ...are you...are you sure? Oh, my God."

"What is it?"

Grace hesitated as he continued listening, "Um...okay. Thanks Caleb. Watch yourself, okay?"

"Grace, what is it?"

"...It's Pastor Jim...he's dead."

John's jaw dropped as words escaped his voice. He shook his head and bit his lip, and pulled the truck off the road inside the trees, parking it. The Impala followed, parking several feet behind the truck. John got out and slammed the door, "Damn it!"

"Dad!" Grace called as she got out. Dean and Sam did the same, "What is it?"

"Son of a bitch!" John hit his truck, very upset. Grace walked around the truck, "Caleb called."

"Is he okay?" Dean urged.

"He's fine," she nodded then shook her head. "Jim Murphy's dead."

"Pastor Jim?" Sam gasped. "How?"

Grace glanced at John, hesitating about her explanation, "Throat slashed. He bled out."

Dean and Sam's faces tightened as Grace continued, "Caleb said they found traces of sulfur at Jim's place."

"A demon," Dean noted. "Was it _the_ demon?"

John shook his head, "We don't know. Could be he just got-he go careless, he slipped up. Maybe the demon knows we're getting close."

"What do you want to do?" Dean asked, frowning.

"Now we act like every second counts. There's two hospitals and a health center in this county. We split up, we cover more ground. I want records. I want a list of every infant that's going to be six months in the next week."

"Dad, that could be dozens of kids," Sam noted, doubtedly. "How the hell are we gonna know which one's the right one?"

"We'll check them all, that's how," he frowned at Sam's dubious look. "You got any better ideas?"

"No sir," he muttered. John turned around, heading back to his truck but he stopped, leaning on it for support. Grace walked a bit closer, "Dad?"

"Yeah," he turned around, seeing all three kids starting at him in concern. "It's Jim. You know, I can't...this ends now. I'm ending it. I don't care what is takes."

Grace and Dean exchanged glances as John hopped back into his truck, starting the engine. Dean and Sam got back into the Impala as John took off back onto the road with Grace.

**Salvation Hospital...**

John pulled the truck by the curb and parked as Grace finished applying her mascara. She preferred to go natural, but with a little make-up, she could make herself appear as old as 23. John grabbed a name-tag and clipped it to his shirt. Grace stuffed her mascara make into her make-up bag and pulled out another bag for all her name-tags, grabbing the one with the symbol of the caduceus. "Ready?"

"Ready," she nodded and stepped out of the car. They crossed the street and entered the hospital, Grace followed John over to the front desk. A plump, red-headed woman typed up a file on the computer when John caught her attention, "Can I help you?"

"Yes ma'am," he laid his right forearm on the counter. "We're doing a investigation, and were wondering if you'd let us look at the birth records of all the infants born about six months ago."

The woman stared at him then slowly turned her gaze to Grace then back to John, "Sure. Have a seat and I'll bring it to you."

"Thank you."

The woman ignored him as she got up and waddled to the room behind the front desk. Grace led John to a table in the waiting area. Within a few minutes, the plump woman came waddling out with a thick file in her grubby hands. She tossed them onto the table and sighed, "There you go. Now, don't you even think of messing with the order because that's a lot of papers that'll take all night to re-organize."

"Yes ma'am," Grace gave a wry smile and the woman huffed as she waddled away. John opened the thick file and pulled out his notepad, Grace did the same. They got to work, careful shuffling through the birth certificates and writing down the names, addresses, and birth dates of infants born six months ago. After several hours, when they were nearly done, Grace's phone rang. "Hello? Hey, Dean, whats...what?"

John stopped to listen. "Uh...okay. Are you at the motel? Alright...okay, we'll be there shortly."

She hung up and John frowned, "What is it?"

"Dean said Sam had a fit and we should come over as soon as possible. He said it's real important."

"Why?"

"He said it has to do with the demon."

**Motel Room...**

John and Dean sat on the edge of the separate beds while Sam sat at the table, Grace taking his temperature and handing him a cup of water with aspirin. John stared at Sam a bit dubiously, "A vision?"

"Yes," Sam replied, taking the aspirin. "I aw the demon burning a woman on the ceiling."

"Alright, and you think it's going to happen to this woman you met because...?"

"Because these things happen exactly the way I see them," Sam gestured with his hands, a bit frustrated. Grace took the thermometer and set it down, Sam's temp normal. Dean got up and started walking to the kitchen, grabbing the coffee, "It started out as nightmares, and then he started having them while he was awake."

"Yeah, it's like-I don't know, the closer I get to anything involving the demon the stronger the visions get."

"Alright, when were you gonna tell me about this?" John asked, agitated and concerned.

They both looked at him, but Dean answered, "We didn't know what it meant."

"Alright, something like this start happening again to your brother, you pick up the phone and call me," John ordered, his voice slightly raised.

Dean set his cup and the coffee down and walked over to him, scoffing, "Call you? Are you kidding me? Dad, I called you from Lawrence, alright? Sam called you when I was dying. I mean, getting you on the phone-I got a better chance of winning the lottery."

"Dean," Grace pleaded.

"No, Grace. He's right," John waved her away, nodding his head as he turned to Dean. "You're right. Although, I'm not real crazy about this new tone of yours, you're right. I'm sorry."

"Look, guys, visions or no visions, the fact is that we know the demon is coming tonight," Sam shifted the attention as Dean walked back to the counter. "And this family is going to go through the same hell that we went through."

"No, they're not," John retorted. "No one is...ever again."

Grace walked around the table and opened the mini-fridge, looking for a non-alcoholic drink as Sam's phone rang. Sam picked it up then held it to his ear, "Hello? Who is this...?...Meg."

John stood up as Dean and Grace turned around to look at Sam. "Last time I saw you, you fell out of a window...just your feelings? That was a seven story drop."

Sam glanced at John who walked over to him, but Sam shook his head, "My Dad. I don't know where me Dad is."

They heard the muffling of Meg's voice and Sam glanced at John again who held out his hand. Sam hesitated a moment then reluctantly gave him the phone. John held it up to his ear as he turned his back to his kids, "This is John...I'm here. Caleb? Caleb."

Dean, Sam, and Grace tensed, realizing what was going on. John panicked, "You listen to me. He's got nothing to do with anything. You let him go...I don't know what you're talking about. Caleb...Caleb!"

John turned around, obviously pissed, "I'm gonna kill you, you know that?"

John started pacing, anger seeping off of him. He sighed, feeling defeated, "Okay. I said okay. I'll bring you the Colt."

The kids gave looks of shock. John rubbed his face, "It's gonna take me about a day's drive to get there. That's impossible. I can't get there in time, and I can't just carry a gun on a plane."

John closed his eyes in anger, then hanged up. "That stupid bitch. God, I hate demons."

"Meg's a demon?" Grace asked, holding a bottle of Pepsi in her hand.

"That or she's possessed by one. It doesn't really matter," he handed Sam his phone.

"What do we do?" Dean asked.

"I'm going to Lincoln."

"What?"

"It doesn't seem like I have a choice," John pointed out. "If I don't go, a lot of people die. Our friends die."

"Dad, the demon is coming tonight, for Monica and her family. That gun is all we got. You can't just hand it over."

"Who said anything about handing it over?" John noted. "Besides us and couple of vampires, no one's really seen the gun. No one knows what it looks like."

"So, what, you're just gonna pick up a ringer at a pawn shop?" Dean frowned in disbelief.

"Antique store."

"Dad," Grace pushed her way in front of the boys. "You're gonna hand Meg the fake gun and hope she doesn't notice?"

"Look, as long as it's close, she shouldn't be able to tell the difference."

"Yeah, but for how long?" her eyebrows furred. "What happens when she figures it out?"

"I just-I just need to buy a few hours, that's all."

"You mean for us," Sam realized, scoffing. "You want us to stay here, and kill the demon ourselves?"

"No, Sam. I want to stop losing the people we love. I want you to go to school. I want Grace to be able to dance. I want Dean to have a home," he turned away, tears stinging his eyes. "I want Mary alive. I just-" he turned back to them -"I just want this to be over."

**Outside, near the train tracks...**

Dean and Grace pulled up to where John and Sam stood behind John's truck. Grace got out, holding something under jacket while Dean killed the engine. John rolled his shoulders, "Did you get it?"

Grace handed him the brown paper bag, and John pulled out the gun. It was old and looked nearly exactly like the real Colt. Dean frowned as John examined the gun, "You know this is a trap don't you? That's why Meg wants you to come alone."

"He's not going alone," Grace announced. "I'm going with him."

"What?" both boys frowned. "Dad?"

John rolled his eyes, "Grace, I told you...you're staying here."

"No, I'm not. Dad, this demon...it doesn't concern me, and you need someone keeping an eye on those demons in case they attack when you hand Meg the gun. I'm going with you."

"Grace...," Sam started.

"Shut up, Sam," she snapped. "I know I'm not part of this _family_...but Dad needs me. You two can handle the damn demon. You don't need me. Dad needs me."

Sam swallowed, feeling awkward and guilty. "Alright, enough. Come on, let's go," John ushered Grace to the truck. Dean hesitated, "Dad..."

"What?"

"Promise me something?"

"What's that?"

"This thing goes south, grab Grace and get the hell out. Don't get yourself killed, alright? You're no good to us dead."

John stared at them then pulled out the real Colt from his pocket, "Same goes for you. Alright, listen to me. They made the bullets special for this Colt. There's only four of them left. Without them, this gun is useless. You make every shot count."

"Yes sir," Sam nodded.

"I've been waiting a long time for this fight," John swallowed hard. "Now, it's here, and I'm not gonna be in it. And Grace is right, neither is she. It's your fight, you finish it. You finish what I started. You understand?"

Dean stared at him, disliking what John was implying. John handed him the real Colt and Dean swiftly stuffed it into his jacket pocket. "We'll see you soon, Dad," Sam nodded, giving a small smile.

"I'll see you later," he smiled back, patting Sam's shoulder. "Come on, Grace."

**Near midnight, Lincoln, Nebraska...**

Grace walked around the warehouse, seeing John pull up and park the truck, glancing around the alley. She whipped her head up, noticing a stream of vapor shooting our from the roof of the warehouse. She kept walking around the warehouse until she found a door that read **BASEMET**. She broke the lock and snuck in. In the basement, she found large pipes trembling from rushing water. She found a release valve and glanced around, then continued following the pipes, ending up at the bottom of a ladder. She looked up and sighed, "Now or never."

She climbed through the building, undetected, making it to the roof. She got up and walked over to the water cistern, examining it. She climbed the short ladder, opening the top of the cistern hatch. She pulled out a red-beaded rosary, already soaked in hold water. She held it in both hands and closed her eyes, whispering a prayer in Latin. When she finished, she dropped it into the water. She pulled out her phone and dialed a number, "...it's done. Run through the basement when you get a chance. Find the release valve."

"Okay," John replied then hung up.

She closed the hatch and walked across the roof, finding a flat, giant, checkered window. She cautiously peered down and saw a single blond woman standing in the middle of the warehouse. Grace knealed down and grabbed the window hatch, quietly opening the window and propping it up so she could peer inside. She took off her small pack and pulled out a sniper gun, swiftly and silently setting it up. She laid stomach-side down on the roof and propped herself on her elbows as she aimed her gun at Meg. Even though demons couldn't be killed by human weapons, a shot through the head will at least slow her down. Grace took a deep breath as the warehouse door was opened and John stepped in. Meg turned around, "John, you made it. Too bad, really. I was hoping to kill more of your friends."

"Sorry to disappoint," John narrowed his eyes at her.

"I can see where your boys get their good looks. Now, I must admit, considering what they say about you I thought you'd be...taller." John just stared at her.

"Well, aren't you the chatty one? You want to get to business?" she walked over to him. "Fine. Why don't you hand over the gun?"

"If I give you the gun, how do I get out of here?"

"If you're as good as they say you are, I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"Maybe I'll just shoot you."

"You wanna shoot me, baby? Go ahead," Meg gave a coy smile then sneered. "It won't end anything. There's more where I came from."

Grace pointed her gun towards a man walking in behind Meg. John noticed him too, "Who the hell's that?"

"He's not nearly as much fun as I am, I can tell you that," Meg replied, warningly. "So I suggest you give us the gun."

The man gave into view and John just stared at him, narrowing his eyes. Meg thrusted her hand out, palm open, "Now!"

John hesitated then pulled out the gun, handing it to Meg. She grabbed it, looking it up and down, "This is the Colt?"

John nodded and Meg handed it to the other man, "What do you think?"

The man held it up, cocking it as he examined it. He glanced at John then turned and shot Meg, right under her heart. She immediately flipped her jacket back as blood soaked her yellow shirt, "You shot me! I can't believe you just shot me!"

"It's a fake," the man tossed the gun away and looked at John.

"You're dead, John," Meg growled. "Your boys are dead."

"I never used the gun before," John started backing away towards the door. "How could I know it wouldn't work?"

"I'm so not in the mood for this," Meg started advancing. "I've just been shot!"

"Well, then, I guess you're lucky the gun wasn't real."

"That's funny, John. We're gonna strip the skin of your bones, but that was funny."

"Bitch," Grace grumbled as she pulled the trigger, shooting Meg in the shoulder and the other man in his left side. They both crumbled through the ground as John dashed through the door, locking it behind him. Grace ducked as Meg got up, her death glare aimed at the window. The other man grabbed her by the arm, "Forget the shooter. Let's go!"

Meg ran to the door as Grace started firing more shots and kicked the door open, running out with the man following her. Grace pulled the gun back, "Damn it."

She checked her watch and tossed the gun, knowing she didn't have time to pack it up. She ran to the ladder on the side of the building and began her descent; she jumped slightly when she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. Knowing it was Dean she growled, "Worse timing ever."

When she got down, she saw John running into the alley beside the warehouse, away from his truck. Grace frowned, "What the hell?"

She started fast-walking after him, glancing around her to make sure the demons weren't around. She came to a halt when she heard the screaming. "Dad...no," she broke into a run, rounding the corner and zipping through the alley. She saw the other man standing at the end of the alley with a smile on his face. John was pinned against a wall several feet in the air, screaming loudly in pain. Grace pulled out a pistol and aimed it at the man when a arm came out and whacked Grace back. Grace fell to the ground then suddenly choked as Meg's foot was pressed against her neck. She grabbed at it, wriggling around as she tried to pry it off. Meg sneered at her, "So...you're the one who shot me? And...you're the Winchester bastard."

Grace tensed as John screamed again, "Let him go!"

"I don't think so...I don't like being played," Meg removed her foot and bent down, grabbing Grace by her neck and holding her up in the air. "And I don't like being shot. First, I'll have some fun with you...then torture your brothers...then maybe I'll kill your cheating father."

"Shut up, you...annoying bitch," Grace spat. Meg's lip twitched; she threw Grace against the wall. Grace hit the wall, face first, hitting her head against the brick then again on the ground, slumping as she was knocked out of consciousness. Meg stood over her and smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>end of chapter 2!<strong>

**don't forget to review!  
><strong>


	3. Yellow Eyed Demon

**chapter 3!**

**disclaimer: i do not own Supernatural**

**Rated M for gore and language**

**enjoy and R&R**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Recap of last chapter...<em>**

_Grace tensed as John screamed again, "Let him go!" _

_"I don't think so...I don't like being played," Meg removed her foot and bent down, grabbing Grace by her neck and holding her up. "And I don't like being shot. First, I'll have some fun with you...then torture your brothers...then maybe I'll kill your cheating father." _

_"Shut up, you...annoying bitch," Grace spat. Meg's lip twitched; she threw Grace against the wall. Grace hit the wall face first, hitting her head against the brick then on the ground, slumping as she was knocked out of consciousness. Meg stood over and smiled. _

**July 15, 2006, Sioux Falls, South Dakota, Bobby Singer's place...**_  
><em>

Meg kicked open Bobby's front door, sauntering in as she pulled Grace with her. Dean saw her first and pulled out a flask of Holy Water, opening it as he started towards her. Meg kicked her leg up, sending him flying into a large pile of books. She turned her gaze back to Sam who stepped in front of Bobby, "No more crap, okay? Or this bitch dies."

Meg pulled Grace by her hair. Sam gasped; Grace pulled at Meg's hand helplessly, her hair was a rat's nest and she had bruises all over her arms, neck and her left cheek and right temple. Blood seeped out of her nose and the corner of her mouth. She struggled to stand up as Meg kept a firm grip on her, "I want the Colt, Sam-the real Colt-right now."

"We don't have it on us," Sam started backing away with Bobby towards the kitchen. "We buried it."

"Bullshit," she sing-songed. "I know you have it."

"Don't give it to her, Sam," Grace croaked. Meg steamed and thrusted her fist into Grace's stomach. Grace bent over, gasping from the blow.

"Didn't I say 'no more crap'?" Meg warned as she advanced on Sam, Grace still tight in her grip. "I swear-after everything I heard about you Winchesters, I got to tell you, I'm a little underwhelmed. First Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, and then he leaves the real gun with you two chuckleheads. Lackluster, men. I mean, did you really think I wouldn't find you? I mean, she's no rat, unfortunately-" she gestured to Grace- "but it wasn't that hard to pick up your trail, to be honest."

"Actually, we were counting on it," Dean appeared behind her. Meg turned around; Dean smirked at her then glanced up. Meg did the same, seeing a large protective circle etched into the ceiling. Her jaw dropped as Dean smiled, "Gotcha."

"About time," Grace muttered and straightened up, hitting Meg in the chin with the back of her head. Meg released her grip, Grace ran out of the circle and into Dean's arms before she fell. Meg grabbed her chin, "You bitch...that hurt."

"Good," Grace spat.

Sam and Bobby quickly grabbed a chair and pushed Meg into it, she remained still, unable to move. Sam swiftly bound her wrists and ankles to the thick wooden chair. Bobby grabbed a big can of salt and left to barricade the doors and windows. Grace had changed into jeans with black Converse, a purple tank top with a white v-neck t-shirt over it; her hair was brushed into a half up-do with her bangs pinned back. She sat by the window, her face cleaned up but the bruises still fresh on her face and arms. Meg coyly stared at the boys, "You know, if you wanted to tie me up, all you had to do was ask."

"I salted the doors and windows," Bobby announced as he walked back in. "If there are any demons out there-they ain't getting in."

Dean nodded and moved around Bobby, standing in front of Meg, "Where's our father, Meg?"

"You didn't ask very nice."

"Where's our father, bitch?"

"Jeez. You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Meg asked, appalled then smiled. "Oh wait, I forgot, you don't."

"You think this is a fucking game?" Dean lunged at her, gripping the chair arms. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

"He did screaming," she whispered into his face. "I killed him myself."

Dean's face contorted into anger as he backhanded her across the face. Meg screamed from the blow then glanced back at him, "That's kind of a turn-on...you hitting a girl."

"You're no girl," Dean straightened up and glared at her.

"Dean," Grace walked over into the kitchen. Bobby followed as Dean lingered then turned to go into the kitchen. Sam walked in with him, "You okay?"

"No."

Grace stopped Dean, placing a hand on his chest, "Dean, calm down. She's lying. Dad's not dead."

"How do you know?" he demanded.

"Because...I saw Dad before Meg hauled me over here."

"Where?"

"I don't know. In Lincoln...Meg knocked me out. But when I woke up, I was pinned to the ground in a different warehouse, Meg on top of me, making Dad watch as she...," her voice trailed off as her hand absently rubbed her bruised arms.

Dean steamed, "I'm gonna kill her."

"Dean, you got to be careful with her," Bobby warned. "Don't hurt her."

"Why?"

"Because she really is a girl, that's why."

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

"She's possessed. That's a human possessed by a demon. Can't you tell?"

"Are you trying to tell me there's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there?"

Bobby nodded and Dean glanced over at Meg who stared back, unblinking. Dean turned back to Bobby and raised his brows, "That's actually good news. Sam."

"Yeah," Sam went back into the room, ignoring Meg as he grabbed a book and started flipping through it. Bobby stood guard by the window, watching for any other demons. Grace stood next Dean as Meg flicked her eyes to each of them, "Are you gonna read me a story?"

"Something like that. Hit it, Sam," Dean replied. Sam glanced down at the book and started pacing, "Regna terrae, cantate deo, psallite domino..."

"An exorcism? Are you serious?" Meg glanced at Dean in disbelief.

"Oh, we're going for it-head spinning, projectile vomiting, the whole nine yards."

"...tribuite virtutem deo," Sam stopped as Meg flinched in pain.

"I'm gonna kill you," Meg growled. "I'm gonna rip the bones from your body."

"No, you're gonna burn in hell. Unless you tell us where our Dad is," Dean frowned as Meg just smiled at him. "Well, at least you'll get a nice tan."

Sam continued, "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incuriso infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, onmis congregatio et secta diabolica..."

Meg began shaking, trying to hold in the pain. She finally let out a loud gasp then crumbled in her chair, "He begged for his life with tears in his eyes. He begged to see his kids one last time. That's when I slit his throat."

"You lying, bitch!" Grace began slapping her repeatedly before dean grabbed her and hauled her back. "She is lying! Dad is not dead! He's not dead!"

"Sorry, honey! He is!" Meg laughed. "I told you...I killed him myself!"

"Ergo...," Sam continued.

Dean walked over and leaned down at her level, "For your sake, I hope you're lying. Cause if it's true, I swear to God, I will march into hell myself and I will slaughter each and every one of you evil sons of bitches, so help me God!"

"Perditionis venenum propinare. Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae," Sam noticed a storng wind blowing around them. "Hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei. Contremisce et effuge. Invocato a nobis sancto et terribile nomine. Quem inferi tremunt..."

"Where is he?" Dean demanded.

Meg huffed, shaking off the pain, "You just won't take 'dead' for an answer, will you?"

"Where is he?"

"Dead!"

"No, he's not! He's not dead, you fucking bitch!" Dean screamed at her then stopped to look at Sam. "What are you looking at? Keep reading."

Sam frowned from concern but kept reading, "Ab insidis diaboli, libera nos, domine. Ut ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias, libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos. Ut inimicos sanctae ecclesiae humiliare digneris, to rogamus audi..."

Meg's chair slid around the circle, causing her intense pain as she screamed, "He will be!"

"Wait!" Dean barked at Sam. "What?"

"He's not dead," she panted. "But he will be after what we do to him."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?"

"You don't."

"Sam!"

"A building!" Meg screamed, practically pleading. "Okay? A building in Jefferson City."

"Missouri? Where, where? An address!" Dean demanded.

"I don't know," she shook her head.

"And the demon-the one we're looking for-where is it?" Grace steamed, her fists coiled.

"I don't know! I swear!" Meg leaned forward, trying hard to shake off the pain. "That's everything. That's all I know."

"Finish it," Dean ordered.

"What?" Meg stammered. "I told you the truth!"

"I don't care."

"You son of a bitch, you promised."

"I lied! Sam?" Dean screamed in her face then looked up at Sam. "Sam! Read."

Sam stepped back and Dean followed him, "Maybe we can still use her. Find out where the demon is."

"She doesn't know," Grace told them.

"She lied," Sam suggested.

"Sam, there's an innocent girl trapped somewhere in there. We've got to help her," Dean reminded, frustrated.

"You're gonna kill her," Bobby pointed out, walking up to them.

"What?"

"You said she fell from a building," Bobby glanced at Meg. "That girl's body is broken. The only thing keeping her alive is that demon inside. You exorcise it – that girl is going to die."

"Listen to me, we're not gonna leave her like that," Dean stated.

"She is a human being," Bobby emphasized.

"And we're gonna put her out of her misery," Dean turned to Sam. "Sam, finish it."

Sam looked at him then at Bobby then at Grace, unsure of what to do. "Finish it," Dean said more aggressively.

Sam took a deep breath then kept going, "Dominicos sanctae ecclesiae, terogamus audi nos, terribilis deus do sanctuario suo deus israhel. Ipse tribuite virtutem et fortitudinem plebi suae, benedictus deus, gloria patri..."

Meg's eyes turned completely black before she threw her head back and screamed, the demon inside her shooting up towards the ceiling. Her head fell back as the demon left her and disappeared inside the circle, banished back to hell. Everyone stared at Meg, blood dripping from her mouth. They all exchanged concerned glances when Meg slowly lifted her head, blood slowly pouring out of her mouth. "She's still alive," Dean turned to Bobby. "Call 911. Get some water and blankets."

Bobby rushed off to find a blanket as Grace went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Dean and Sam began untying her. Meg shook slightly, "Thank you."

Sam shushed her softly, "Just take it easy, alright?"

"Come on. Let's get her down," Dean and Sam scooped Meg up as Grace walked back into the room. Meg screamed as the sound of bones crunching echoed the room. The boys set her down on the floor. Sam gently laid her head down, noticing more blood flowing from her nose, "Sorry, sorry. It's okay."

"A year," Meg strained as Grace knealt down next to Dean and handed him the bottle of water.

"What?" Sam asked.

"It's been a year."

He shushed her again, "Just take it easy."

"I've been awake for some of it. I couldn't move my own body. The things I did...it's a nightmare," she turned her head and noticed Grace. "You...I'm so...so sorry."

Grace reached over and held her hand, "It's okay. I know it wasn't you. It's okay."

Meg sighed in releif, still gasping. Dean leaned in a bit closer, "Was it telling the truth about our Dad?"

"Dean," Sam started.

"We need to know," he reminded.

"Yes," Meg replied. "But it wants...you to know...that...they want you to come for him."

"If Dad's still alive, none of that matters," Dean informed as Bobby walked into the room, carrying a blanket. Grace helped him cover Meg while Sam picked her head up so Dean could give her the water. Meg coughed a bit then sighed, feeling a bit better. Sam laid her back down, "Where's the demon we're looking for?"

"Not there," she took a shaky breath. "Other ones. Awful ones."

"Where are they keeping our Dad?" Grace asked.

"By the river," she barely spoke. "Sunrise."

"'Sunrise'? What does that mean?" Dean asked but Meg just stared. "What does that mean?"

Meg continued to stare. Grace looked down and felt the limpness of Meg's hand, "...she's gone."

Grace stood up, walking away as she rubbed her sore face. Dean backed away as Sam moved the blanket up to cover Meg's face. Sam got up and Bobby followed him, "You better hurry up and beat it. Before the paramedics get here."

"What are you gonna tell them?" Dean asked, placing his hands on his hips.

"You think you guys invented lying to the cops? I'll figure something out," Bobby handed Sam the Key of Solomon book. "Here take this. You might need it."

"Thanks."

"Thanks...for everything," Dean nodded. "Be careful, alright?"

"You just go find your Dad. And when you do, you bring him around, would you? I won't even try to shoot him this time," Bobby promised.

"Thank you, Bobby," Grace hugged him. Dean and Sam started towards the door as Grace grabbed her jacket and followed them out.

**July 16, 2006, Jefferson City, Missouri...**

Grace sat on the roof of the Impala, Sam standing beside it, facing her, the Key of Solomon between them. Dean stood by the trunk, loading guns into his duffle bag. Sam spun a marker in his hand then glanced at Dean, "You've been quiet."

Dean cocked his gun, checking it, "Just getting ready."

"He's gonna be fine, Dean. Dad's tough," Grace assured him. Dean didn't answer, continuing packing his duffle bag. Grace sighed as Sam flipped a page, finding a special protective circle. Grace the description upside down as Sam got an idea. "Watch out."

He took the book and walked over to the open trunk, wiping off the dirt and drawing the circle on the car with his white marker. Dean saw him and gasped, "Dude, what are you drawing on my car!"

"It's called a Devil's trap," Grace informed as Sam finished. "Demons can't get through it or inside it."

"So?" Dean stroked his finger through it, finding it permanent. Grace hopped down on the other side of the car, taking the marker from Sam as she drew the circle on the other side of the trunk. Sam held the book so she could see, "It basically turns the trunk into a lockbox."

"So?" Dean asked again.

"So, we have a place to hide the Colt while we go get Dad," Grace finished, wiping her dirty hands on her jeans.

"What are you talking about?" Dean shifted his weight on his foot. "We're bringing the Colt with us."

Grace looked up at him, "We can't, Dean. We've only got three bullets left. We can't just use them on any demon, it's gotta be used on _the _demon."

"No, we have to save Dad, Grace, okay?" Dean walked around his car to her. "We're gonna need all the help we can get."

"Dean, you know how pissed Dad would be if we used all the bullets?" Sam reminded, closing the book. "Dean, he wouldn't want us to bring the gun."

"Sam's right, Dean. Dad'll have a fit if he found out," Grace supported.

"I don't care, Grace! I don't care what Dad wants!" Dean raised his voice then turned to Sam. "And since when do you care what Dad wants?"

"We want to kill this demon. You used to want that. too. Hell, I mean, you're the one who came and got me at school!" Sam yelled back causing Dean to scoff. "You're the one who dragged me back into this, Dean. I'm just trying to finish it!"

Dean shook his head, "Well, you and Dad are alot alike than I thought, you know that? You both can't wait to sacrifice yourself for this thing. But you know what? I'm gonna be the one to bury you! Have you even thought how it would affect Grace?"

"Dean."

"You're selfish, you know that? You don't care about anything but revenge!"

"Dean!"

"That's not true, Dean!" Sam shouted back, but Dean just scoffed. "I want Dad back!"

"SAM! DEAN!" Grace pushed herself between them. "Enough...okay? Damn it. Enough. Look, Dean, they're expecting us to bring the gun. They get the gun, they will kill us all. That Colt is our only leverage and you know it. We can not bring the gun."

Dean shifted his jaw, glancing at Sam, "Fine."

"I'm serious, Dean."

"I said fine, Grace," he spat. Dean grabbed the Colt from his jacket and held it up, waving it in Grace and Sam's faces then placing it in the trunk. When Dean finished packing, he locked the car and the three of them set off walking along the river. After an hour or so, they came to an opening towards the road by the river. As they passed through the trees, Dean stopped. "Hey, hey. Think I know what Meg meant by Sunrise."

Sam and Grace followed his gaze to a building with a sign reading: **Sunrise Apartments**. Several kids played jump rope in front of it, screaming in joy and laughing. "Son of a bitch. That's pretty smart," Grace turned to face her brothers. "I mean, if these demons can possess people they can possess almost anybody inside."

"Yeah, and make anybody attack us," Sam agreed, sighing in defeat.

"So we can't kill them-a building full of human shields," Dean frowned at the building, glancing at the windows of the building.

"They probably know exactly what we look like, too," Sam added. "And they could look like anybody."

"Yeah, this sucks out loud," Dean glanced around, wondering what to do.

"Tell me about it," Sam muttered then cleared his throat. "Alright, so how the hell are we going to get in?"

Grace stared at the building for a moment, "Pull the fire alarm...? Gets all the civilians out."

Sam thought on this, "Okay, but the city responds in...what...seven minutes?"

"Seven minutes exactly," Dean stated.

**Seven minutes later, outside the building...**

The fire alarm rang continued to ring as the firemen prepared to investigate. Grace waited by the east corner of the building, silently watching as Dean distracted a fireman while Sam picked the lock on one of the truck's compartments. Sam glanced in Grace's direction and flicked one of the lock pickers in his hand, reflecting a beam of sunlight at her. Grace took off to the side of the building, finding the fire escape. She pulled down the ladder and began climbing. She checked each floor when she found an open window, John tied down to the bed in the master bedroom. She carefully stuck her head out, checking the room. Seeing no one else, she swung her legs inside, secretly glad she wore Converse instead of her boots. She walked over to the door, seeing a couple seated at the kitchen table, unmoving. "Damn it."

She pulled out her flask of Holy Water. She was about to curl her fingers around the door to open it when she heard banging from the front door. She heard the scraping of the chairs against the wood floor. "This is the fire department! We need you to evacuate!"

Grace peeked through the door opening. The man squeezed in behind the door, nodding to the woman. Th woman undid the chain, unlocked the door, and began to pull it open when it flew at it, sending her back at the table. Two firemen walked in and began spraying the couple with water. They screamed from the burning pain. The shorter fireman punched the demon man and shoved him in the closet. The taller firemen tried to grab the demon woman but she thrashed about like a wild animal, hitting him in the face and sending him back. She got up and was about to pounce.

"Hey!"

The woman turned around and collided with Grace's foot. The woman spun around into the floor, Grace reacted quickly, grabbing the woman by the shirt and throwing her into the closet with the demon man. Dean shut the door and held it with his weight as the demons began banging. Sam reached into the duffle bag and grabbed the canteen of salt, surrounding the closet. As soon as he finished, the demons ceased. Dean jumped out of the salt arch and the boys began taking off their gear, shoving it into a corner. Grace led them into the bedroom, "Come on."

Dean and Sam hesitated in the doorway at the sight of their father, "Dad?"

Grace walked to the side of the bed and laid her head down on John's chest, "He's still breathing."

Dean walked over on the other side, "Dad, wake up. Dad!"

Grace felt her throat go tight as she reached for John's face, gently leaning his head up. His face was covered in blood from being beaten and he looked pale. Dean pulled out his pocket knife and held it to John's bounds. Sam stopped him, "Wait. Wait."

"What?" Dean demanded urgently.

"He could be possessed for all we know,"

"What? Are you nuts?" Grace frowned at him, wiping the sweat off her father's forehead.

"We got to be sure," Sam reached into the duffle bag and pulled out a flask of Holy Water. He sprinkled it on John but nothing happened. John stirred, lifting his head up and squinting at all of them. He noticed a flask in Sam's hand, "Sam? Why are you splashing water on me?"

"Dad, are you okay?" Grace asked as Dean started cutting his bounds.

"They've been drugging me," he moaned the licked his chapped lips. "Where's the Colt?"

"Don't worry, Dad. It's safe," Sam reassured him as Dean handed his knife to Grace who cut the rest of his bounds. Grace got up and stuffed the knife in her pocket then walked over to Sam, "Gimme the bag. Help Dean."

"Yeah," he handed the bag over and walked past her. Dean and Sam lifted John up, pulling his arms around their shoulders to help him walk. Grace opened the door and walked out, the boys and John right behind her. Suddenly, the front door burst open. A fireman and a bald black man stepped in.

"Get back!" Grace shouted as she pulled out Dean's knife and threw it at the firemen, hitting him in the right shoulder. She turned back and ran inside the bedroom, slamming the door closed and locking it. Sam pulled her back behind him where Dean and John were as an axe came threw the door. Sam reached into the duffle bag and pulled out the canister of salt as the demon kept whacking with the axe. Grace helped Dean push John out onto the fire escape. Sam fell back, trying to avoid being axed but failing to put a line of salt. Grace screamed, "Let's go, Sam!"

Sam followed her out, drawing a line of salt on the window sill. At the bottom, Dean hopped down onto the street first, John hopped down next, falling into Dean's arms. Grace came down and helped Dean hold John up while Sam grabbed the duffle bag and went on ahead to scout the area. He stepped out into the open alley when he was suddenly tackled. The man straddled Sam and started wailing his fists on Sam's face.

"Sam!" Dean released John, leaving Grace as he ran up to the man and kicked him straight in the face. The man looked up, his eyes completely black. He smiled and telekinetically threw Dean against a parked car, and went back to beating Sam. Grace clumsily set John down against the building and ran over, "Sam!"

The man looked up and held his hand up, Grace stopped. Feeling like she ran into a wall, but she remained standing. The man frowned, and thrusted his hand slightly. Grace clenched her teeth, feeling a force push her back, but held her ground. Her arms were stuck to her side, but she took one step forward. The man's frown deepened as he thrusted his hand again in the air. Grace closed her eyes, fighting the force; she took five more slow steps toward him.

"You bitch," the man held both hands up. Grace opened her eyes, a trickle of blood flowing down one nostril, she lifted her foot but she couldn't put it down. The man screamed as he put all his force into his thrusts. Grace cried out as the powerful force pushed back, sending her flying past John and against a light pole. She rolled on the ground, stopping on her back. The man smirked and slowly turned his head back to Sam, "Where were we?"

A gunshot rang out. The demon trembled as the bullet passed straight through his head, electricity crackling around the wounds as he doubled over, falling off of Sam. Sam huffed and rolled away from him, slowly getting up. Dean put the Colt back into his pocket and ran over to Sam, "Hey, hey...you okay?"

Sam looked at him, his face bloodied and bruised, "Yeah..."

They glanced at the demon and realized the demon and the man it was possessing were both dead. Dean pushed Sam, "Go. Come on. We got to get out of here."

Sam huffed as he walked over to Grace; painfully, he scooped her up bridal style as Dean grabbed the duffle bag and helped John up, running towards the Impala.

**Cabin in the woods, night...**

Grace stirred, she opened her eyes and found the room spinning. She reached for her head but instantly flinched, pain shot up through out all her muscles, like she spent her time trying to push a wall. She groaned as she sat up, nausea hitting her hard. She gasped as she tried to maintain herself when Sam walked into the room. "Grace. Good, you're awake."

"Why?"

"The demon. It's here," he checked the window, making sure the salt blocked the window.

"What?" Grace stood up, flinching from pain. Sam walked over and helped her up, "Dad's awake. Come on."

"No, Sam...this is your fight. Not mine," she tried to push him away.

"Grace...stop. This fight is ours. And that includes you," he grabbed her arm and pulled it over his shoulders. Grace groaned, her arm was practically straight up based on the 14 inch height difference between them. Sam, despite his swollen face, managed to haul Grace through the cabin like she weighed nothing. Sam led them into the main room and found Dean pointing the Colt at John. Sam stopped, "Dean? What the hell is going on?"

"Your brother's lost his mind," John countered, his hands up defensively.

"Dean?" Grace flicked her confused eyes to Dean.

"He's not Dad," he simply said.

"What?"

"I think he's possessed. I think he's been possessed since we rescued him," Dean began to stutter, getting upset.

"Don't listen to him, Sammy," John warned then looked at Grace. "Grace...please. It's me. You know it. Baby, please."

Grace frowned at him in disbelief, she pulled her arm off of Sam and walked over by Dean. Sam glanced at Dean and Grace, "Dean, how do you know?"

"He's...he's different," Dean blinked away tears. Grace continued to stare at John, frowning.

"You know, we don't have time for this," John insisted. "Sam, you wanna kill this demon, you've gotta trust me."

Sam glanced at Dean and Grace but they said nothing. John huffed, "Sam?"

Sam thought for a moment then walked over to Dean and Grace, shaking his head at John, "No. No."

"Fine. If you're so sure...go ahead. Kill me," John's lip trembled. He looked down, waiting for the bullet. Dean hesitated, blinking as he pondered of whether or not to pull the trigger. John snickered, "I thought so."

John lifted his head and his eyes shined yellow. Grace gasped as she felt a force wrap around her body as Sam was thrown against the right wall and Dean was thrown against the left, dropping the Colt, both of them pinned. The demon in John's body sauntered over and picked up the Colt, "What a pain in the ass this thing's been."

"It's you, isn't it?" Sam sneered. "We've been looking for you for a long time."

"Well, you found me."

"But the Holy Water?"

"You think something like that works on something like me?"

Sam tried to fight the force pinning him to the wall but failed, "I'm gonna kill you!"

"Oh, that'd be a neat trick," the demon set the gun down on the table. "Here. Make the gun float to you there, psychic boy."

Sam glanced at the gun but growled in defeat. The demon scoffed, "Well, this is fun."

He walked over to where Grace trembled in the middle of the room, her arms pinned to her side, unable to move. The demon gently touched her face, "I could've killed you a hundred times today, but this...this is worth the wait. You know...your Dad is in here with me. Trapped inside his own meat suit."

"Let him go," Grace glared at him. "Or I swear, I will tear you to pieces."

The demon grabbed her chin, "...I know all about you. Grace Winchester. The bastard. You know...John regrets bringing you along on this little hunt."

Grace frowned at him as he continued, "God...you always, always dragged him down. He so wishes your dear little mom was still alive so he could dump you with her."

"What?"

"Grace, don't listen to him," Dean warned, fighting the force, but failing. But his words flew over Grace's head.

"I mean, come on...could you not tell? He pushed you aside, he didn't care about you... he used you to find everything he can about me. I mean...the demon that killed your Mama? My baby girl."

Grace searched his eyes, "...Meg."

"Her? No, no. But...that one is my daughter," the demon nodded and smiled. "I love all my children. Not like John. He uses you. I couldn't do that. Why do you think he kept you around? My girl was your only connection to me...John used every single link he could find. You're just another piece to the puzzle. I mean, did you really think after he killed me, he would keep you around?"

"Grace...!" Dean called out.

"Dear ol' Sammy was right!" the demon laughed. "You're not part of this family. You're just a mistake...a mistake that John has to lug around and worry about keeping alive. To John...him, Mary, and these boys here...are the family. But you-" he shook his head -"you don't fit. You never have and you never will. I'm sorry, sweetheart, but that's just the way it is."

He stroked her hair, giving her a look of pity. Grace stared at him then lifted her head up, "Fuck you."

The demon smirked, letting go of her chin. He lifted his hand and backhanded her. Grace cried out in pain, but stayed standing, blood seeping out of the corner of her mouth. The demon rubbed his thumb in her blood then licked it. He smacked his lips and nodded, "Well, what do you know...you're pretty special, Grace. Guess my little girl was right..I'm gonna have to take you with me after I kill these boys...maybe in the same way I killed your mom...or theirs. Yeah, that's better. Kill them just like that."

"I wanna know why?" Sam caught his attention. "Why'd you do it? Why? All of it...why?"

"You mean why did I kill Mommy and pretty, little, Jess?" he glanced at Sam.

"Yeah."

The demon rubbed the rest of the blood off of Grace licked his thumb clean, walking over to Dean, "You know, I never told you this, but Sam was going to ask her to marry him. Been shopping for rings and everything."

He walked over to Sam, "You wanna know why? Because they got in the way."

"In the way of what?"

"My plans for you, Sammy. You...and all the children like you."

"Listen, you mind just getting this over with, huh?" Dean talked over him. "Cause I really can't stand the monologuing."

"Funny!" the demon walked over to him. "But that's all part of your M.O., isn't it? Masks all that nasty pain, masks the truth."

"Oh, yeah?" Dean challenged. "What's that?"

"You know, you fight and you fight for this family, but the truth is they don't need you. Not like you need them. Sam – he's clearly John's favorite. Even when they fight, it's more concern than he's ever shown you."

"I bet you're real proud of your kids, too, huh?" Dean smirked, unfazed. "Oh, wait, I forgot. I wasted 'em."

The demon stared at him then back up and hanged his head. When he glanced up, Dean screamed in pain. Sam shouted, "Dean! No!"

Grace trembled from the force holding her as she watched blood soaking through Dean's shirt. Dean fought the pain, "Dad! Dad, don't you let it kill me!"

The demon just smiled and Dean screamed again. Grace closed her eyes, feeling rage build inside her. Dean coughed, blood pouring out of his mouth, "Dad, please."

"Dean!" Sam screamed as Dean passed out. "NO!"

"STOP IT!" Grace screamed as the force holding her shattered. Her own telekinetic force blasting away the demon and his hold on the boys. Sam and Dean dropped down as Grace fell to her knees. Sam dived and grabbed the Colt as the demon got up, "Get out of my way..."

"No," Sam cocked the gun as Grace crawled over to Dean.

"You kill me, you kill Daddy."

"I know."

Sam fired the gun, shooting the demon in the leg. The demon fell, electricity crackling around his leg as he groaned, rolling on the floor. Sam walked over to where Grace was pulling Dean's head in her lap. "Dean! Dean? How is he?"

Grace shook her head as she rocked Dean, moving his shirt, "He's lost a lot of blood. I don't know...where's Dad?"

"He's right here," Sam replied absently, looking over her shoulder at the unconscious Dean.

"Go check on him."

"Grace."

"Go check on him."

Sam got up and ran over to John's motionless brother. He leaned over cautiously, "Dad? Dad?"

"Sammy!" John flinched, making Sam jump back and aim the gun. "It's still alive. It's inside me, I can feel it. You shoot me. You shoot me! You shoot me in the heart, son! Do it now!"

"Sam, no!" Grace shouted over her shoulder, cradling Dean. "Don't do it."

"You've gotta hurry! I can't hold onto it much longer! You shoot me, son! Shoot me! Son, I'm begging you! We can end this here and now! Sammy!" John begged, his voice echoing in the cabin as he struggled in pain to hold the demon back.

"Sammy...no," tears fell off Grace's face and onto Dean's.

"You do this! SAMMY!" John ordered, his eyes watering. "Sam..."

Sam lowered the gun and the demon shot out of John's body and seeping through the cabin floor. John lifted his head back up to glare at Sam as Grace shuddered in relief. John's head fell back with a thud out of frustration as Sam fell to the ground on his butt, his strength giving out as releif washed over him.

**On the road to a hospital...**

Sam drove the Impala through the country road. John was in the passenger's seat and Grace was in the back, Dean slumped across the backseat with his upper body leaning on her's. John winced in pain, his leg stinging. Sam glanced at him, "Look, hold on, alright. The hospital's only ten minutes away."

"I'm surprised at you, Sammy. Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this? Killing this demon comes first – before me, before everything," John looked at him accusingly.

Sam glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing Grace's tear-stained face and Dean's bloodied, unconscious one. Sam shook his head, "No sir. Not before everything. Look, we've still got the Colt. We still have the one bullet left. We just have to start over, alright? I mean, we already found the demon..."

Suddenly, they were slammed in the right side by a eighteen wheeler rolling at them in full speed, sending them several hundred feet off the road. When it finally stopped, John and Sam were slung in their seats, covered in blood and unconscious. Grace was in the back, her head hanging out of the window as Dean stirred in her lap.

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><p><strong>end of chapter 3!<strong>

**don't forget to review!  
><strong>


	4. Men of Honor

**chapter 4! In this, we get a closer look at Grace and her past!**

**Disclaimer: i do not own Supernatural**

**Rated M for gore and language**

**enjoy and R&R**

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><p><strong>Recap of last chapter...<strong>

_"I'm surprised at you, Sammy. Why didn't you kill it? I thought we saw eye-to-eye on this? Killing this demon comes first – before me, before everything," John looked at him accusingly._

_Sam glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing Grace's tear-stained face and Dean's bloodied, unconscious one. Sam shook his head, "No sir. Not before everything. Look, we've still got the Colt. We still have the one bullet left. We just have to start over, alright? I mean, we already found the demon..."_

_Suddenly, they were slammed in the right side by a eighteen wheeler rolling at them in full speed, sending them several hundred feet off the road. When it finally stopped, John and Sam were slung in their seats, covered in blood and unconscious. Grace was in the back, her head hanging out of the window as Dean stirred in her lap._

**In hospital, July 17, 2006...**

Grace woke up with a gasp. She sat up, and welt a wave of pain over take her body. She cried out, gasping, her entire left side burning. She opened her eyes and glanced down at her body; her arm looked like it had been broken, then fixed, then broken again. She stretched out her arm, the purple and black bruises moving with her skin. She flexed her forearm, finding her muscles just overly sore. She whipped her head to the door as Sam walked in. He glanced at her and relaxed his shoulders, "Thank God. You're awake."

"Yeah," Grace pulled the covers back and stood up, wincing as her legs groaned against her standing up.

"Hey, hey...take it easy," Sam walked over to her, helping her stand.

"I'm fine. How's Dad and Dean?" she pulled at her hospital gown in disgust. Sam talked as she walked over to where the nurse had folded her clothes, "Dad's awake. Broken arm, but he's fine. I gave the hospital his insurance. He wants me to go pick up some stuff for protection."

"Okay, I'll go with you," she grabbed her clothes and head towards the bathroom. "How's Dean?"

"..."

"Sam?" Grace stopped and turned to look at him. "Sam? How's Dean?"

Sam hesitated a moment, "He's fine. Look, if you wanna come, hurry up and get dressed. Dad needs a lot of stuff and we gotta see how the Impala is."

Grace stared at him for a moment then entered the bathroom, keeping the door open several inches, "It's probably wrecked to pieces. What happened, anyway?"

"A demon. A demon driving an eighteen wheeler at full speed," Sam scoffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "I saw the demon...I threatened him with the Colt and he fled."

"Really?" Grace stepped out, holding her jacket in one hand and her Converse in the other. She sat down and stuffed her feet into her shoes, taking the moment to look at Sam, "How about you? Are you okay?"

Sam ran his fingers through his hair, absently showing his cuts and the swollen bruise on his face from the demon beating he received yesterday, "I'll live. Doctors said my injures aren't that bad."

"Good. Good," she muttered and stood up, readjusting her top which was stained with dried blood. "When are you leaving?"

"Now," he moved towards the door as Grace put on her jacket.

**Shiloh County, Sioux Falls, South Dakota, Bobby's place...**

Grace and Sam stared as they found the Impala where it sat in Bobby's junkyard. The once beautiful 1967 Impala, sat like someone took it in both hands and tried to break it on their knee. Sam mimicked Grace's look of defeat, "Oh, man. Dean's gonna be pissed."

"Look," Bobby walked with them as they walked up to the car. "This...this just ain't worth the tow. I saw we empty the trunk, sell the rest for scraps."

"No," Grace shook her head. "Dean would have our heads. When he gets better, he's gonna wanna fix it."

"There's nothing to fix, Grace," Bobby emphasized as he lifted the front hood and dropped it, causing it to come apart. "The frame's a pretzel, and the engine's ruined. There's barely any parts worth salvaging."

"Bobby, if there's any working part, that's enough," Sam stated as he pulled out his binder of notes. "We're just not going to give up on..."

"Okay," Bobby nodded, understanding. "You got it."

"Hey," Grace reached into her pocket, pulling out and list and holding it out for Bobby. "Dad, uh, asked you to get this for him."

Bobby took it, looking it over and frowning, "What's John want with this?"

"Protection from the demon," Sam replied, then mimicked Bobby's frown. "What?"

"Nothing," Bobby shook his head. "It's just, um..."

"Bobby," Grace got his attention. "What's going on?"

**July 18, 2006, Hospital...**

Grace sat in the waiting room of their floor, Sam had went on ahead with all the tools. She doubted he heard her when she told him she was going to wait a while before she went up to see John. The tools, the ingredients were for summoning a demon. She should've known. John was playing on killing that demon once and for all, whatever it took. She knew it was stupid to let Sam go there on his own, but she needed a few minutes to herself. To think...about the demon, about John, about everything. Everything that's happened...and what the demon said.

"Call the doctor!" a nurse ordered as she ran down the hall towards Dean's room. Grace shot up and ran after her, several doctors got through the hallway before her. She picked up her speed then skidded to a halt as Dean came flying out of his room. Grace frowned, wide-eyed, "Dean?"

"We have a pulse," a nurse declared. "We're back into sinus rhythm."

Grace slowly walked up to where Dean huffed on all fours, "Dean?"

Dean looked up, surprised, looking straight at Grace, "Grace?"

"Dean!" she ran and fell down in front of him. "God, it's good to see you."

"Wait a minute, you can see me?" Dean frowned in disbelief.

"Of course," she smiled. "Wait, why were you tossed out of your..."

Dean glanced down and found Grace's hand merged with his. He lifted his hand and it slipped right out of hers. Grace looked back at him, "Dean? What the hell?"

"I...I don't know," Dean shook his head.

Sam walked out and heaved a sigh, then frowned at Grace who was crouched on the floor, "Grace? Are you okay?"

"Sam!" she got up clumsily, grabbing Sam by the shoulders. "Sam, you won't believe this!"

"Believe what?"

"This! Dean. It's Dean. He's...," her voice trailed off as she glanced behind Sam, seeing the doctors run a quick check up on Dean who was still hooked up to a machine. Sam glanced at Dean then back at her, "Grace? What is it?"

"I," she turned around, seeing the empty hallway. "I saw Dean."

"What are you talking about?"

"I _saw _him, Sam. He was literally right here," she pointed to the spot where he was crouched in front of her a moment ago. She glanced around, seeing and hearing nothing of Dean. Sam turned her towards him, "Grace...are you saying you saw Dean's...spirit? Grace. Grace! Tell me...did you see Dean's spirit?"

Grace frowned and looked up at him, "I...don't know. I think-I think I did."

Sam glanced around them, "Okay, come on. We need to go."

**John's room...**

"What do you mean, you saw Dean?" John asked in disbelief, lying in his bed.

"Like I said, Dad...I ran down the hallway and saw Dean on his hands and knees outside his room. I talked to him, but...I couldn't touch him," she huffed, sitting in the only chair beside John's bed. Sam paced the room, "Is it even possible? Dean's spirit walking around? And...how can Grace see him one minute and not the next?"

"I dunno," John shook his head. "Anything's possible, but..."

Sam stopped, shifting impatiently, "Well, there's one way to find out."

"Where are you going?" John asked.

Sam stopped in the doorway, "I gotta pick something up. I'll be back."

He left and Grace turned towards the window in thought. John noticed her concern, "What is it?"

Grace shook her head, "Dad...I don't understand."

"Understand what?"

"Me. I mean, how can I see Dean's spirit, and how did I stand against that demon, and what did the Yellow-Eyed Demon mean about me being special?"

"Grace, calm down..."

"No, Dad! I need to know! Why? Why is all this happening? To Sam? To Dean? To _me_?"

"Grace," he spoke gently. "Calm down."

Grace panted, burying her face in her hands. John sighed, feeling defeated, "You know, I...with you on the road with me, I had plenty of chances to tell you about your mom."

Grace lifted her head, her eyes a little watery. John looked at her, his brows furred, "You should know...about her."

"What was her name?" Grace asked, lowering her hands.

"...Lara."

"Lara?"

John nodded and sighed, "I met her in the fall of 1988, in El Paso. She was real young, only 20. But she was beautiful."

"Who was she?" Grace asked, frightened of the answer.

"She was a hunter," John looked away. "We hunted a gang of werewolves in El Paso. After that, she and I, uh..."

"Oh," Grace grimaced.

"Anyway, sometime in December, she called me. Told me she was pregnant."

"What did you do?"

"I went and saw her. She and I, we...worked things out. She agreed to retire and raise you, and I...," John shifted in his bed. "Grace, you gotta understand. After Mary died and before I met Lara...I was a mess. I was hellbent on revenge, I thought of nothing else. But Lara, being pregnant and all, it-it distracted me."

"Distracted you?" Grace frowned.

"In a good way. Lara made me happy. Every time I drove over to see her, she made me so happy," John smiled in nostalgia. "I even paid more attention to the boys. Actually turning into their father again. But...one day, when I was on my way to see her, I checked my voice mail. She left me this strange message."

"About what?" Grace asked.

"It was hard to tell. All I could make out was that she was in trouble and she needed help," John shook his head and looked up at her. "I drove there as fast as I could. I got there and..."

"And what?"

John didn't answer. "And what, Dad?"

_**FLASHBACK...**_

**July 10, 1989, El Paso, Texas...**

John Winchester parked his Impala and grabbed his gun. It was close to sunset and dead quiet. He walked up the front porch and knocked on the door. He knocked again with more force and the door opened, the leftover sunlight lighting up the dark house. He stepped inside and called out, "Lara? Are you here?"

He closed the door and cautiously walked through the living room, "Lara?"

"John?" a weak voice came from the stairs.

"Lara?" John climbed the stairs two at a time, reaching the top and finding Lara on the ground several feet from him. She wore a light purple nightgown and laid sideways on the ground, barely holding herself up on her hands. Her belly stuck out under the nightgown. John walked over to her, "Lara? Are you okay? What happened?"

He moved her black, straight hair out of the way. Her usual bronze skin was a bit pale and her round, beautiful face was coated in sweat. She struggled to look at him, "John? Is that you?"

"I'm here," he grabbed her arms, slowly helping her up.

"John. He...he came for me."

"What?" he stopped, both of them on their knees. "What are you talking about?"

"A man," she stuttered, her whole body trembling. "A man came for me. He...he's inside me. He's inside me, John. He's trying to take-to take over!"

John stared at her, wide-eyed. Lara cried, "Please, John. You have to help me!"

John shook his head, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, the front door burst open. John whipped his head over to the balcony overlooking the living room, hearing the front door crash into the kitchen. John scooped up Lara and sat her at a chair by a mirror on the wall. He gripped his gun and peeked over the railing. A figure stood in the dark in the middle of the room. Slowly, its head lifted to where John stood. Lightning blasted along with thunder, lighting up the figure. John's jaw dropped. A woman stood, staring at him, a splitting image of Lara, "Well, well. John Winchester. I didn't expect to see you."

Lightning flashed again and John got a glimpse of her solid black eyes, "Who are you?"

"I...have many names," the demon woman moved to the stairs and John drew his gun. "Some of them are hard to pronounce. My silly father, he can be...a bit spontaneous. Call me Amy."

"Is that the name of your meat suit?" John held his gun out.

"No," the demon reached the top of the stairs and glanced at Lara. "This suit belongs to Sara Martin. Perhaps you know her...huh, Lara?"

Lara stared wide-eyed, her hand on her belly, "No. No, you let my sister go!"

Amy giggled, "Well, if I did that, your sister would go to jail...for murdering her lovely, rich, handsome husband. Oh, yeah. I love having fun with my meat suits."

"Shut up," John cocked his gun.

"No, John! That's my sister! Don't kill her!"

"I have to get the demon, Lara. We can save your sister after I get that thing out of you."

"Oh...yes," Amy tilted her head. "There is someone rolling around inside you. Tsk tsk. Why don't you let me take care of that for you?"

"You touch her and you're dead," John warned, pulling out a flask of Holy Water.

Amy glanced at him, her eyes still black, "I've heard a lot about you. You're causing quite a stir down there."

John narrowed his eyes at her as she continued, "After all, my Daddy killed your precious little family. And now I'm gonna kill the rest."

"What?" John blinked, confused.

"Can't you tell? The demon you're hunting? My father," Amy laughed. "God...Daddy always knew how to rile you humans up. I mean, the way your wife died...terrible. And now you went and knocked up this slut. I'm sure Mary's pretty upset with you-"

Amy took a few steps back, her ears ringing from the shot John fired. She glanced down and found blood seeping out of a whole in her chest. Lara cried out, "John! No!"

Amy glanced up John, "Johnny boy...look what you did. You've gone and killed me."

She advanced, John fired more shots, but Amy came up to him and pushed him back across the hall. Amy turned to Lara and bent down, grabbing her by the neck and bringing her up to her feet. Lara struggled against her hold and the thing inside her. Amy examined her face, "I've been looking for you for a long time. Your baby has caused me a lot of trouble. And now...I finally have you. I'm taking your baby and I'm going to kill you."

Lara tugged at her hand around her neck, "Think again...you stupid bitch."

Amy followed her eyes to the ceiling, finding a protective circle etched on it. Amy released Lara who fell to the ground, choking. "Damn it."

John got up and began chanting an exorcism. Amy whipped her head to him and winced in pain, "You think you can banish me? You're no priest!"

But John ignored her. Amy flailed about the circle, "Stop it. Stop it! Stop it, you son of a bitch!"

John kept going. Amy steamed, "You want me out of this suit! Fine!"

She reached out and grabbed Lara by the throat, forcing her mouth open. Sara opened her mouth and the demon poured out, surrounding Lara in a thick black cloud. John stopped his chanting, "Lara!"

He tried to run, but was suddenly thrown back. When the demon left Sara, she fell back, blood seeping out of her mouth, dead. Lara fell to her side, the black cloud seeping inside her mouth and nose. John got up and ran over to her, "Lara! Lara! Lara?"

Lara stirred, pushing herself up. John helped her up, her face hidden by her hair. "Lara? Lara?"

Lara suddenly looked up, her face in pain as her right eye shined bright white and the other glowed a shiny black. John leaned back in instinct as Lara sobbed, "John! They're inside me! I can feel them! They're fighting inside me! Help me! Get them out! GET THEM OUT OF ME!"

John pulled her away from Sara's body, letting her down in the middle of the balcony. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a special book. He flipped through the pages and and found the exorcism spell. Lara screamed, her body thrashing as the demon and something else battled inside her, "John, hurry!"

John licked his lips and began chanting. The words flowing off his tongue as Lara screamed, her eyes flashing black and bright white. She stood up, her body being thrown left and right. John yelled the final chantment and Lara screamed as bright light and black fog flew out of her mouth, pushing her backwards. John ducked, covering his eyes as the thing and the demon left her. Lara fell back, flipping over the railing and falling to the first floor. John raised his head, "Lara? Lara? LARA!"

He ran to the balcony and threw his head over, seeing Lara lying face-up on the wooden floor. He flew down the stairs and ran to her side. Hesitating, he pulled her to his lap, cradling her head as he felt for her pulse. "No," he whispered. "No, no, no, No, NO!"

He clenched his fists, taking his fingers away from her neck. Her eyes stared up into nothing as he rocked her, sobbing. He glanced up, water blurring his vision, "No. No. Not again. Lara."

**_END FLASHBACK..._**

Grace stared at him, with a look of intensity. John rubbed his fingers over his thumbs, "After that I...I took her to the hospital. They couldn't revive her but they managed to pull you out. I took you, but Lara...she was gone."

"Was...was she full term?"

John shook his head, "No. She was only 7 months along. You were actually due in September. But, um...after I had Lara cremated, I named and raised you. I took almost two years off of hunting."

"You named me?" John nodded. "But...why do I have your name? What was Lara's last name?"

"I didn't know it," he shrugged. "She never told me. Plus, she used a lot of aliases so I could never figure it out myself."

Grace rubbed her face, "So...that demon, Amy, did you ever find her?"

"No. I tried, believe me, I tried. But I did manage to find out she was telling the truth. The Yellow-Eyed Demon is her father."

"Is that why you kept me around?" Grace asked, immediately regretting she did.

"Of course not, Grace. How could you think that?" John frowned at her, almost scolding.

"The demon...he said some pretty nasty things."

"I know. And they're not true, you know that," he shook his head. "Grace, I love you. You're my daughter, my flesh and blood. I took care of you. I would give anything just to make sure you see the sun tomorrow. Nothing has changed. You hear me? Nothing."

"I know," Grace smiled, and grabbed his hand. "Guess I just needed to hear it."

John smiled in relief as the door opened, Sam walking in with a brown paper bag in his hand. "Hey."

"Hey," Grace wiped her face.

"You mind coming with me, Grace?" Sam gestured outside with his head.

"Sure," she squeezed her father's hand, and got up.

"What're you gonna do?" John asked.

"See if we can talk to Dean," Sam held up the bag so he could see then walked out. Grace hesitated at the door, "Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

John smiled, "Be careful."

"Always am," she nodded and walked out.

**Dean's room...**

Sam stepped into the room, holding a brown paper bag with Grace behind him. They both looked at Dean's comatose body. Grace frowned as Sam circled the bed, "Are you sure this is going to work?"

"Yeah," Sam sat down on the ground and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid. "I got this from Bobby."

"What is it?"

"Some kind of elixir that's supposed to help amplify your psychic ability."

"Okay, so chug it."

Sam looked up at her, "Actually...since you saw Dean, I thought maybe you could take it."

"Are you serious?"

"Look, it's either this or I go buy a Ouija board."

"Fine," Grace grabbed the vial and pulled the cork. She inhaled and swallowed the liquid in one gulp, getting a bland taste on her mouth. Sam waited for a moment, "Well?"

Grace shuddered and walked over and sat down opposite of Sam, "Yeah...I can feel it tingling."

"Good."

"So, what am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Just talk to Dean."

"How?"

"Well, how did you see him earlier?"

Grace thought for a moment, her vision blurring a little, "...when I saw all those nurses and doctors running to his room, all I could think about was if Dean was okay."

"And?" Sam pressed.

"And...I saw him outside his room. Just like that. But," she shook her head. "I don't get how because when I tried to tell you I saw him, he vanished."

"Maybe not," Sam licked his lips. "Maybe, if you concentrate and think about Dean, you'll be able to see him. Try-Try it."

"Okay," Grace closed her eyes and breathed, relaxing her body. She felt her head throb, but not in a headache way. She frowned, "Dean? Dean, are you there?"

"Grace?"

Grace opened her eyes and found Dean's face in hers. She instinctively jumped back, "Dean?"

"What? Is he here?" Sam asked, seeing nothing.

"Yes! Finally, Grace, you can see me, right?" Dean asked, waving his hands in front of hers.

"Yes, yes, I can see you. Stop it," she waved him away.

"Grace?" Sam pressed.

"He's here, Sam."

Sam huffed, relieved, "Dean? Are okay?"

"Oh, just peachy," Dean sat down, forming an unfinished circle with them.

"He's okay," Grace reassured him. "Dean, what're you doing? Haunting the hallways?"

"No," he retorted offensively. "I'm hunting."

"Hunting?"

"Hunting? Hunting what?" Sam asked. "What're you hunting?

"Whoa, whoa, one question at a time," Dean held his hands out to calm him.

"Sam," Grace caught his attention. "Dean's a little baffled. Relax. One question at a time."

"Oh. Okay."

Grace turned to Dean, "What are you hunting?"

"A Reaper," he replied. "I don't think it's killing people. I think it's taking them. You know, when their time's just up."

"Dean says he's hunting a Reaper," Grace informed Sam.

"What, is it after him?"

Dean nodded and Grace sighed, "Yes."

Sam leaned back, "If it's here naturally, there's no way to stop it."

"Yeah, you can't kill death," Dean muttered.

"Shit," Grace leaned on her knees. "Sam, what do we do? Dean?"

"I dunno."

"I dunno," Sam echoed. He touched his face in thought, "No, no, no. There's gotta be another way."

"Like what?" Dean and Grace asked simultaneously.

"Dad. Dad will know what to do," Sam got up and left.

"Sam!" Grace called after him. "Damn him."

"Great," Dean huffed. "By the way, can you only see me?"

"Huh? Yeah, why?"

"I met this girl, Tessa. She's like me."

Grace shook her head, "No, the only one I've seen is you."

Dean nodded, "Okay, so how-"

Grace flinched, the image suddenly gone, "Dean? Dean? Where'd you go? Hey! What did you teleport or some scary ghost shit like that? Dean? Dean!"

Sam came back into the room, carrying John's journal. "Hey, Dad wasn't in his room."

"Wha? Oh."

"What's wrong?" he sat down on the edge of Dean's bed.

"It's Dean. He...he suddenly vanished."

"The stuff must've worn off," Sam thought for a moment. "Son of a bitch."

"What?"

"Bobby said he got that vial from a shady hunter, Vee Saunders."

"Saunders? Wow, I'm surprised he didn't toss the vial in the first place, but hey, the stuff worked."

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Well, we'll worry about communicating with Dean directly, later," Grace sat on the other side of the bed. "I'm sure he's still here. Why do you have Dad's journal?"

"I was just checking to see if he had something on Reapers," Sam opened the journal and flipped through it until he found a page on Reapers. Grace leaned over, "What does it say?"

"Not much, but it says here that Reapers can alter human perception. They can make you see anything. But that's it…there's nothing on how to kill it or anything."

Grace glanced at Dean's body; she reached out grabbed his hand, "Dean? Dean, can you hear me? Don't worry…we'll find a way to help you. We won't stop until you're awake and healthy. So, just hang on…okay?"

Sam set the book down, reaching over and pulling Grace into a hug, not knowing what to say. They sat there for a moment when Dean gasped, his eyes squeezing as he choked on the tube in his mouth. Grace sat up, "Dean? Dean! Sam, get some help!"

Sam ran out in the hallway, "Help! I need help!"

**July 19, 2006, hospital…**

The doctor stood at the foot of Dean's bed, "I can't explain it. The edema's vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You have some kind of angel watching over you."

"Thanks, doc," Dean replied, the doctor left and he turned to Sam and Grace. "So, a Reaper was after me?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded.

"How'd I ditch it?"

Grace shrugged, "You got me. Dean, you really don't remember anything? The times we talked?"

"No," Dean shifted in his bed. "Except this pit in my stomach…something's wrong."

They all turned as John knocked then walked into the room, smiling at Dean, "How you feeling, dude?"

"Fine, I guess. I'm alive."

"That's what matters."

Sam fumed, "Where were you last night?"

"I had some things to take care of," he replied absently.

"Well, that's specific," Sam retorted.

"Sam, come on. Drop it," Grace pleaded.

"Did you go after the demon?" Sam demanded.

"No," John said plainly.

"You know, why don't I believe you?"

"Can we not fight? You know, half the time we're fighting, I don't know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads. Sammy, I, I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?" he pleaded, exhaustion showing on his face.

Grace took a step forward, "Dad, are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little tired," he smiled at her then turned to Sam. "Hey, son, would you, uh, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure," Sam replied, having calmed down but still frowning.

"Dad, what is it?" Grace asked.

"Huh? Oh, nothing," he reassured her then cleared his throat. "Can you go get my duffle bag? I forgot to grab it. I wanna get out of here as soon as possible."

"Sure, Dad," she walked around him.

"Hey, Grace," he called out.

Grace stopped in the doorway, "Yeah?"

John smiled at her, "Thank you."

"Of course, Dad," she smiled back, and then took off, frowning. Grace walked down the hallway, turning into John's room. The nurses had already made the bed, but the duffle bag was left untouched by the window. She grabbed it and stopped, feeling the lack of weight. She set it down and opened it up; finding the stuff they got from Bobby's gone. "Son of a bitch."

She zipped it back up and threw the bag over her shoulder, stalking out of the room and down the hallway. She got halfway to Dean's room when she absently glanced into a room on her right, John standing in the middle of it. Grace stopped and walked into the room, "Dad?"

John didn't move. "Dad? Dad, are you okay?"

Suddenly, he fell. Grace dropped the duffle bag and ran to his side, "Dad! Dad? DAD!"

She shook his shoulders, but his eyes were closed, unresponsive. Sam stepped into the room, carrying a cup of coffee as Grace pulled John's upper body into her lap, still screaming. Sam dropped the cup and ran over, opposite Grace on John's side. He too screamed, "Dad? Dad! Wake up!"

"No, Dad!" tears began pouring down Grace's face. Dean ran clumsily into the room, stopping in the doorway, "HELP! Someone help!"

A group of nurses and doctors came in, pushing Dean and Sam aside. Grace yelled at them as they pried John form her hands. They quickly lifted John onto the empty hospital bed and began resuscitation. A nurse tried to push the three of them out. Dean pleaded with her, "No, no, no. It's our Dad! It's our Dad! Come on."

"Okay, stop compressions," the doctor ordered.

"Dad, please," Grace whispered.

"Still no pulse," a nurse shook her head.

"Okay, that's it, everybody," the doctor gestured for them to stop. "I'm calling it. Time of death: 10:41 am."

* * *

><p><strong>end of chapter 4!<strong>

**don't forget to review!  
><strong>


	5. Rakshasa

**chapter 5!**

**disclaimer: i do not own Supernatural**

**Rated M for gore and language**

**enjoy and R&R**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Recap of last chapter...<em>**

_"Dad, please," Grace whispered._

_"Still no pulse," a nurse shook her head._

_"Okay, that's it, everybody," the doctor gestured for them to stop. "I'm calling it. Time of death: 10:41 am."_

**July 19, 2006, Open field...**

Grace, Sam, and Dean stood side by side, hands in their jacket pockets as they watched their father's body burn. Dean stared silently and expressionless, Grace stood with tears streaming down her straight face, and Sam fidgeted, sobbing, "Hey...before he...before...did he say anything? About anything? Grace?"

Grace swallowed hard, her throat tight, "No, he...didn't."

"Dean?" Sam asked, choking as he rocked on his feet.

Dean stared at the funeral pyre, "No. Nothing."

**July 25, 2006, Sioux Falls, South Dakota, Bobby's place...**

Grace walked through the junkyard, John's cellphone in her hand. She walked around a group of destroyed cars; it was nice in warm, so she wore a black Metallica t-shirt and short dull green khaki shorts with her low top Converse, and her hair up in a high ponytail. She found Dean crouched by the Impala, just a plain frame but no longer crushed, and Sam beside him. "Hey, guys!"

"Hey, Grace," Sam turned around, his hands in his pockets and his wounds healing on his face. "Did you get it?"

"Get what?" Dean asked, wiping his wrench on his cloth.

"This is one of Dad's phones," she waved the phone for him to see. "I finally cracked the voicemail code. You should listen to this."

She handed the phone to Sam and he put it on speaker so Dean could hear: "John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me."

"That message is four months old," Grace added as Sam handed the phone back.

"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Grace snapped the phone closed.

"Well, who's Ellen?" Sam asked. "Any mention of her in Dad's journal?"

"No. He never even mentioned her when we were traveling on hunts and stuff," she shook her head. "But I ran a trace on her phone number and I got an address."

Dean nodded, "Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars."

**July 26, 2006, Nebraska, Roadhouse Saloon...**

Dean parked the Dodge Caravan in front of the Roadhouse. Sam was in the passenger's seat while Grace took the whole middle row with all the notes and tools. "This is humiliating," Dean grumbled as he got out, slamming the car door. "I feel like a friggin' soccer mom!"

"It's the only car Bobby had running," Grace reminded, getting out. Despite the heat, she had a big, dull green jacket that nearly matched her shorts. Sam walked around the front, "Hello? Anybody here?"

"Hey," Dean caught Grace's attention. "You bring the, uh..."

"Of course," she reached into her jacket and tossed something which he caught. They entered the saloon and found it empty and quiet. A light bulb blew out and the three of them exchanged glances. They stared walking around and Sam noticed a man passed out in the back on a pool table, "Hey, buddy?"

"I'm guessing that isn't Ellen," Grace asked rhetorically.

"Yeah," Dean agreed, stepping closer to the unconscious man. Sam walked away, going behind another door to snoop. Grace walked around the back, entering a small room. Dean stepped away from the pool table and stopped, feeling something poking him in the back, "Oh, God, please let that be a rifle."

"No, I'm just real happy to see you," a girl cocked the gun. "Don't move."

"Not moving, copy that," Dean held his hands out. "You know, you should know something, miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy to do-" he spun around and took the rifle from the girl's hand- "That."

The pretty blond girl punched him in the nose and took the gun back. Dean doubled over, clutching his nose, "Sam! Grace! Need some help in here! I can't see. I can't even see."

Sam came out from the back door, both hands on his head as a middle-aged brunette woman held a gun to his head, "Sorry, Dean, I can't right now. I'm a...little tied up."

The blond girl doubled over, gruffing in pain as Grace lowered her leg and grabbing the rifle. The older woman pulled out another gun and pointed it at Grace who pointed the rifle back at her. Dean squinted his eyes, "Grace, is that you?"

"You listen to me, let my brothers go," Grace growled at the woman.

The woman frowned, "Grace? Dean? Sam? Winchester?"

Grace lowered her gun a bit as she replied in unison with her brothers, "Yeah."

"Son of a bitch," the woman muttered.

"Mom, you know these guys?" the blond girl stood up, rubbing her cheek.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's kids," the woman lowered her guns and laughed. "Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Jo."

Grace lowered the rifle as Dean smiled at Jo. Jo gave a wry smile, "Hey."

"You're not gonna hit me again, are you?"

"She's not gonna kick me again, is she?"

They all looked at Grace. Grace held the rifle by her side, "Sorry."

Jo narrowed her eyes, doubting Grace's sincerity. Ellen walked behind the bar, "Dean...let me get you some ice."

Grace walked up to Jo and handed her the rifle. They stared at each other, Jo looked down at her, standing three inches taller, trying to intimidate, but Grace just smirked, "You got a good punching arm."

"You have a strong kick," Jo rolled her jaw, gesturing to her pink cheek. "I like you."

"Likewise," Grace smiled, walking with Jo to the bar. Ellen handed Dean a small towel with ice, "Here you go."

"Thanks. You called our Dad, said you could help. Help with what?" he asked, holding the ice to his nose.

"Well, the demon, of course," Ellen replied as if it was obvious. "I heard he was closing in on it."

"What, was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?" Dean huffed, a bit frustrated. "I mean, who are you? How do you know all this?"

Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once," Ellen muttered the last bit.

"Oh, yeah? How come he never mentioned you before?" Grace asked. "I've been on a lot of hunts with him these past several years and...never I heard nothing about you. Why?"

"You'd have to ask him that."

"So why exactly do we need your help?" Dean asked accusingly.

"Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if-" she stopped her ranting, realizing something -"He didn't send you."

Dean looked down then back at Sam and Grace. Ellen stood up straight, "He's all right, isn't he?"

"No," Grace sighed, shaking her head. "No, he isn't. It was the demon, we think. It, um...it got to him before he got it, I guess."

"I'm so sorry," Ellen said, sincerely.

"It's okay," Dean smiled. "We're all right."

"Really?" Ellen furred her brows. "I know how close you kids and your Dad were-"

"Really, lady, I'm fine," Dean insisted.

"So look, if you can help, we could use all the help we can get," Sam said before Dean could protest.

"Well, we can't," Ellen exchanged glances with Jo. "But Ash will."

"Who's Ash?" Grace asked, shrugging her shoulders.

"ASH!" Ellen shouted and the man on the pool table jerked away. He flailed about, "What? It closin' time?"

Sam glanced back at Jo and Ellen and pointed to the man, "That's Ash?"

"Mm-hmm," Jo shook her head. "He's a genius."

"Really?" Grace raised a brow.

Ash walked over to the bar with Sam sitting around the sharp corner, but enough space between them. Ash wore jeans, a sleeveless plaid shirt, with a unusual dirty blond mullet. Grace pulled out a brown folder from her jacket and slapped it down on the bar. Jo stood behind the counter and poured water. Grace sat down next to Sam as Dean remained standing, "You've gotta be kidding me, this guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie."

"I like you," Ash nodded genuinely.

"Thanks," Dean muttered.

"Look at that, Dean made a friend," Grace teased him.

"Just give him a chance," Jo insisted.

Dean sat down between Ash and Sam and opened the folder, "All right. This stuff's about a year's worth of our dad's work, so uh, let's see what you make of it."

Ash rifled through the papers and shook his head, "Come on. This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody can track a demon like this."

Dean glanced at Sam while Grace scoffed, "Our Dad could."

"These are non-parametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations, I mean.. damn! They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms... You ever been struck by lightening?" Ash shuddered. "It ain't fun."

"Can you track it or not?" Sam demanded.

"Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time, uh, give me... fifty one hours."

He gathered the stuff and got up to leave, but Dean stopped him, "Hey, man."

"Yeah?"

"I, uh, dig the haircut."

"All business up front," Ash waved his long hair in the back. "Party in the back."

Dean nodded as Ash left. Jo walked around the bar and glanced at Dean who watched her. Sam squinted his eyes and pointed behind the counter, "Hey, Ellen, what's that?"

"It's a police scanner. We keep tabs on things, we-"

"No, no, no, no," he pointed to the thing beside it as Dean walked away. "The, um, folder."

"Uh," Ellen set the water jug down and grabbed the folder, setting it down in front of Sam and Grace. "I was gonna give this to a friend of mine. But take a look, if you want."

Grace leaned over Sam's shoulder, seeing the folder thick with notes and newspaper clippings. The front had **COUPLE MURDERED. CHILD LEFT ALIVE. MEDFORD, WISC. **Grace and Sam looked through it, after awhile, Grace called out, "Dean, come here. Check this out."

"Yeah?" Dean got up from talking to Jo and walked over.

"A few murders, not far from here, that Ellen caught wind of. Looks to me like there might be a hunt."

"Yeah. So?"

"So," Grace swiveled in her seat to face him. "Sam told her we'd check it out."

**On the road to Wisconsin, night...**

Dean drove, the windshield wipers moving rapidly to clear the window of rain. He huffed, "You gotta be kidding me. A killer clown?"

"Yeah," Sam held a flashlight over the research in his lap. Grace worked on IDs and tools in the back as Sam continued, "He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents. Ripped them to pieces, actually."

"And this family," Grace lifted her head. "They were at some carnival that night?"

"Right," Sam nodded. "The, uh, Cooper Carnivals."

"So how do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?" Dean glanced him, eyebrows raised.

"Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down shop. Alibis all around. Plus this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course."

"Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam?" Dean glanced at him with a playful smile. "Why did it have to be clowns?"

Sam rolled his eyes, "Oh, give me a break."

"You didn't think I'd remember, did you?" Dean laughed.

Grace stuck her head out, getting in Sam's face with a big smile, "Are you serious? You're still afraid of 'em?"

"No, I'm not," Sam didn't meet her eyes.

"Oh, please, Sam," Dean nudged Grace. "He still busts out crying whenever he sees Ronald McDonald on television."

"Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying," Sam retorted.

"Planes crash!" Dean snapped.

"And apparently clowns kill!"

"Children, don't fight," Grace said mockingly gentle.

"Shut up!" Sam and Dean snapped at her.

"All right, all right. Sheesh, I was just trying to lighten the mood," Grace sat back and muttered. "Babies."

"So these types of murders, they ever happen before," Dean asked, feeling a little upset.

"Uh, according to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus, same M.O. It happened three times, three different locales," Sam replied, turning the pages of notes.

"It's weird, though, I'm mean if it is a spirit it's usually bound to a specific locale, you know, a house, or a town."

"So how's this one moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?" Sam asked rhetorically.

"Cursed object, maybe," Grace replied, examining a fresh ID she had made. "Spirit attaches itself to something and the, uh, carnival carries it around with them."

"Great," Sam sighed. "Paranormal scavenger hunt."

"Well, this case was your idea," Dean reminded him then frowned. "By the way, why is that? You were awfully quick to jump on this job."

"So?" Sam shrugged.

"Dean's got a point, Sam," Grace glanced at him. "It's just... not like you, that's all. I thought you were hell-bent for leather on the demon hunt."

"I don't know, I just think, this job, it's what Dad would have wanted us to do."

"What Dad would have wanted?" Dean repeated doubtedly.

"Yeah. So?"

"Nothing," Dean shook his head then made eye contact with Grace in the rearview mirror.

**July 27, 2006, Medford, Wisconsin, Cooper Carnival...**

Dean pulled the squeaky mini-van into a parking spot and nodded to one of the trailers, "Check it out. Five-oh."

Sam and Grace noticed two men in suits talking to several people inside the carnival. They all got out and Grace handed special ID to Dean. Sam volunteered to stay near the entrance as Grace and Dean went to go talk to the detectives. When they finished their rather quick, tense talk with the detectives. Dean and Grace walked back to Sam, noticing him having a staredown with a three-foot woman dressed like a clown. He watched her leave and Dean laughed at him, "Did you get her number?"

Sam jumped then scowled at him. Grace swatted Dean, "Aw, come on, leave him alone. Don't worry, Sammy, you'll have all night long to think about her."

"Very funny," Sam scrunched his face at her then huffed. "More murders?"

"Two more last night. Apparently they were ripped to shreds. And they had a little boy with them," Grace informed, placing her hand on her hips.

"Who fingered a clown," Sam scoffed. Dean and Grace paused, giving Sam weird looks. Sam noticed them, "What?"

"Yeah, a clown, who apparently vanished into thin air," Dean added.

"Grace, you know, looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles," Sam pointed out. "They could be anything."

"Well, it's bound to give off EMF, so we'll just have to scan everything," she suggested.

"Oh, good, that's nice and... inconspicuous," he scoffed, shaking his head. Dean stared across the lot, seeing a "Help Wanted" sign. He turned back to Sam and Grace, "I guess we'll just have to blend in."

**Knife Thrower's tent...**

The three of them entered the tent where a man in a tweed suit and sunglasses threw several knifes, not quite hitting the bullseye. Dean walked to the platform the man stood on, "Excuse me, we're looking for Mr. Cooper, have you seen him around?"

"What is that, some kind of joke?" the man croaked. Dean frowned then the man took off his sunglasses, looking over Dean's head with his pale, solid gray eyes, obviously blind.

"Oh. God, I'm-I'm sorry," Dean stammered.

"You think I wouldn't give my eyeteeth to see Mr Cooper? Or a sunset? Or anything at all?" the blind man began ranting.

"Wanna give me a little help here?" Dean glanced at Sam and Grace. Grace held in her smile, tight-lipped as she shook her head. Sam stared back at Dean and shook his head, "Not really."

"Hey, man, is there a problem?"

The three of them turned around and looked down, seeing an extremely short man with a red cape around his shoulders. The blind man cried out and pointed over all their heads, "Yeah, this guy hates blind people."

"No, I don't," Dean glanced back and forth at them. "I-"

"Hey, buddy, what's your problem?" the short man demanded.

"Nothing, it's just a little misunderstanding."

"Little? You son of a bitch," the short man raised his small club and Sam and Grace laughed.

Dean held his hands out defensively, "No, no, no, no! I'm just, could somebody tell me where Mr Cooper is? Please!"

**Mr Cooper's office..**

"You kids picked a hell of a time to join up," Mr Cooper led the Winchesters into his office and gesture to the front of his desk. "Take a seat."

Dean walked in with Grace behind him, Sam behind her, they noticed the two normal chairs and a pink one with the backrest of a clown. Grace and Dean exchanged snickering glances as they grabbed the two normal chairs, forcing a reluctant Sam to sit in between them in the clown chair. Sam scowled, slowly sitting down on the clown chair's edge. Mr Cooper ignored all this as he blabbered, "We've got all kinds of trouble."

"What do you mean?" Grace asked before giving Sam an innocent look as he glared at her.

"Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered. Cops always seem to start here first," he waved off the issue. "So have any of you ever worked the circuit before?"

"Yes sir, last year through Texas and Arkansas," Grace replied, seeming convincing.

"Yeah," Dean nodded, smiling. Sam nodded, giving a half-hearted smile.

"Doing what?" Mr Cooper asked, causing Dean's smile to fall. "Ride jockies? Butcher? ANS men?"

"Ride jockies," Grace nodded, and the boys nodded with her. "A little bit of everything, you could say."

Mr Cooper cocked his head, staring at Grace doubtedly, "You kids have never worked a show in your lives before, have you?"

"Nope," Dean replied, his smile lingering for a moment before disappearing. "But we really need the work. Oh, and, uh, Sam here has a thing for the bearded lady."

Sam made a disgusted face at him. Mr Cooper thought for a moment then pointed to a picture of a man by a Ferris wheel, "You see that picture? That's my Daddy."

"You look just like him," Sam commented.

"He was in the business. Ran a freakshow. Till they outlawed them, most places. Apparently displaying the deformed isn't dignified. So most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress. I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else," he leaned forward, folding his hands atop his desk. "But you three? You should go to school. Get yourself an education. Find some nice girls. You, Missy, you could find no problem getting a nice, swell guy. You're purtty. Go. Go, have some two point five kids. Live _regular_."

Grace hesitated at his serious face, and was about to say something when Sam leaned, "Sir? We don't want to go to school. And we don't want regular. We want this."

Mr Cooper stared at him for several minutes then leaned back in his chair, "Fine. You're hired."

"Really?" Dean smiled in disbelief.

"Yeah. Missy, you can work the ticket booth," he pointed at her then at Sam and Dean. "And you two...can work staff duty."

"What's that?"

"Oh, you'll see. Fill these out," he reached into a drawer and slapped three papers down on his desk. "Come by a little later. I'll have your uniforms and your assigned duties."

"Thank you, sir," Sam replied as they began filling out their information. When they finished, Mr Cooper showed them the door. Sam walked with his hands in his pockets as Grace overlooked the schedule Mr Cooper gave her, and Dean fidgeted, "Huh."

"What?" Sam glanced at him.

"That whole, uh, I don't want to go back to school thing. Were you just saying that to Cooper or were you, you know, saying it?" Dean glanced back at him but got no answer. "Sam?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" Dean echoed as Grace led them around a crowd of people. "I thought that once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State."

"I'm having second thoughts," Sam stopped, causing Grace and Dean to stop too.

"Really?" Dean looked at him doubtedly.

"Yeah. I think," Sam nodded, not quite sure of himself. "Dad would have wanted me to stick with the job."

"Since when do you give a damn what Dad wanted?" he retorted. " You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam."

"Since he died, okay? You got a problem with that?"

"Hey!" Grace got in between them. "Enough. People are staring. Knock it off. Look, we need to get to work and begin the search so we can got out of here as soon as possible. All right?"

Sam glanced her then at Dean, then nodded. Grace looked at Dean, but he stared at something else, "Dean? All right?"

"Whatever," he took off.

**Later, Carnival ticket booth...**

Grace organized the money into the cash register as Louise (the strangely thin-never married and will never marry-ticket woman) handed her more and more stacks of money from incoming visitors. She had just pushed the register pack into it's place when her phone rang. She grabbed it and flipped it open, holding to her ear, "Hello?"

"Hey, it's me," Sam replied on the other line. Grace held her hand over the phone and glanced at her boss, "Louise, I'm gonna step outside. It's my Dad."

"Make it quick, honey," Louise rolled her eyes. Grace stepped out of the booth and stood away from the noise, "Hey, you alright?"

"Uh...yeah."

"Did you see a clown?"

"Ha Ha," he mocked. "No, I saw a skeleton. Fake. I was in the funhouse. Listen, I was thinking...maybe the spirit isn't attached to a cursed object, maybe its remains instead."

"Okay. The skeleton give off EMF?"

"No, but-"

"We'll check it out anyway. Call Dean, I still have more money to organize," she glanced reluctantly at the ticket booth. "On second thought, I'll come meet you. Where are you?"

"By the Funhouse, but-"

"Relax. If I get fired...we're leaving anyway, okay? See you in a bit."

"Okay."

She closed the phone and took off, not really caring if Louise worried where she went (not that she would worry). She took off down a small side path and followed a family to the Funhouse. Sam stood nervously avoiding all the clown stuff. He noticed her first, "Hey."

"Hey, you call Dean?" she walked up to him.

"Yeah," he frowned at her. "What're you wearing?"

"What? This?" she glanced down at her red Pink Ladies style jacket. "It's what they gave me."

Sam snorted, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his red jacket. Grace placed her hand on her hips, "So, what did Dean say?"

"The same thing you did. He's on his way."

"Great," she nodded the noticed him staring. "What?"

"Grace, you know, you...when Dean and I fight about Dad, you always-you always break us up then change the subject. Why?"

"What're you talking about? Sam, we're on a job, right now. We need to focus on the job."

"But brushing aside Dad's death?" he gave her a questioning look. "I mean, what the hell, Grace? Dean at least talks somewhat about it, why haven't you?"

"There's nothing to talk about, Sam. Dad's dead, okay? The demon killed him. What more do you want?"

"I don't know. Just-" he clapped his mouth, not knowing what to say."

"Exactly. You don't know. Just drop it. We're working right now. Let's just focus on this, all right?"

He nodded, defeated. Grace glanced to the side, Dean walking up to them, "What took you so long?"

"Long story."

"Mommy, look at the clown!"

They all turned to see a black girl with voluminous hair pointing in between two tents. The mother bent down to her daughter's level, "What clown?"

Grace walked over, the boys right behind her. She peeked in between the tents and got a quick glimpse of a yellow and red clown suit before it vanished. The boys came up on either side of her, seeing nothing. The mother ushered her daughter away, "Come on, sweetie."

**Family's home, that night...**

Dean parked the minivan across the street of the little girl's house. They watched as the family cleaned up their dinner. Sam sat in disbelief, "Dean, I cannot believe you told Papazian about the homicidal phantom clown."

"I told him an urban legend about a homicidal phantom clown, I never said it was real," he corrected as he pulled out a shotgun and cocked it. Grace gasped and grabbed it from him, "Dude, not cool. What if somebody saw?"

Dean looked at her disbelief but waved it off, "Oh, and get this. I mentioned the Bunker Brother's Circus in '81 and their, uh, evil clown apocalypse? Guess what."

"What?"

"Before Mr. Cooper owned Cooper Carnival, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager."

"So you think whatever the spirit's attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?" Sam asked.

"Something like that," he sighed, shaking his head. "I can't believe we keep talking about clowns."

They continued to watch the family through most of the night. Dean had dozed off while Sam kept a watchful eye and Grace fought to stay awake. She blinked her eyes real hard and sighed. Suddenly, the dining room light came on. Grace sat up, "Sam? Sam."

"Yeah, I saw," he swatted Dean awake. Dean snorted, jolting awake. Sam pointed to the house as the little girl walked through the dining room. Dean opened the van door, "Come on, let's go."

They all got out, their guns at the ready. Dean ran up to the front door as Sam and Grace checked the street for nosy neighbors. Dean pried the lock open and quickly stepped inside, Sam and Grace following suit. Dean snuck into one room at the end of the hallway with Sam. Grace took another room by the stairs. They heard the little approach with a silent friend, "Wanna see Mommy and Daddy? They're upstairs."

Grace lept out and grabbed the little girl who immediately started screaming. Sam and Dad came out and blasted the clown, shooting it dead as it fell back. Grace tried to keep the girl at bay, "Calm down, we're not here to hurt you."

As Dean and Sam cocked their guns, the clown stood up. They were about to fire again when the clown turned, vanished, and jumped through the window, breaking the glass; the invisible clown knocked over a plant before completely leaving without a trace. A buff man came out followed by his wife, "What's going on out here?"

"Oh my God, what are doing to my daughter?" the woman cried out. Grace backed away, releasing the little girl before taking off with her brothers out of the house. They flew back into the minivan and Dean took off like a bat out of hell.

**July 28, 2006, back road...**

When he was sure they were far enough, he parked the minivan on the side of a back road and all three of them started empyting out the van, including the license plates. Sam stopped, feeling stupid, "You really think they saw our plates?"

"I don't want to take the chance," Dean stated as he closed the trunk, throwing the duffle bag over his shoulder. "Besides, I hate this friggin' thing anyway."

Sam took his backpack full of notes, while Grace took the other with all their fake IDs and small tools and clothes. They walked in silence in the middle of the road until Dean spoke up, "Well, one thing's for sure."

"What's that?" Grace asked, pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

"We're not dealing with a spirit. I mean, that rock salt hit something solid."

"Yeah, a person? Or maybe a creature that can make itself invisible?" Sam suggested.

"Yeah, and dresses up as a clown for kicks?" he glanced at Grace. "You see anything in Dad's journal?"

"Nope," she replied, pulling out her cellphone.

"Who are you calling?"

"Ellen, or maybe that guy Ash'll know something."

"Hey, you think, uh, you think Dad and Ellen ever had a thing?" Sam asked, scoffing at the idea.

"No way."

"Then why didn't he tell us about her?"

"I don't know, maybe they had some sort of falling out."

"Yeah. You ever notice Dad had a falling out with just about everybody?"

Dean nodded and Sam shook his head, "Well, don't get all maudlin on me, man."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this 'strong silent' thing of yours, it's crap," Sam snapped; Grace sighed, trying to ignore them.

"Oh, god," Dean whined.

"I'm over it. This isn't just anyone we're talking about, this is Dad. I know how you felt about the man."

"You know what, back off, all right? Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to."

"No, no, no, that's not what this is about, Dean. I don't care how you deal with this. But you have to deal with it, man," Sam insisted but Dean just snorted. "Listen, I'm your brother, all right? I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Dude, I'm okay. I'm okay, okay?" Dean talked over him. "I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm going to start throwing punches. These are your issues, quit dumping them on me!"

"What are you talking about?" Sam stopped, frowning at him.

"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to Dad. It's like, oh, what would Dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with that man. I mean, hell, you, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him," Dean shouted, ignoring Grace's glaring. "And now that he's dead, now you want to make it right? Well, I'm sorry Sam, but you can't, it's too little, too late."

"Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this!"

"Dean, stop," Grace pleaded, lowering the phone.

"No, Grace," he shouted at her then glanced at Sam. "I'm dealing with Dad's death! Are you?"

"Why do have to dump this all one me?" Sam demanded. "I'm just trying to look out for you!"

"Because you're dumping them on me, Sam!"

"I said stop it, Dean! Enough! Shit, do you two have to fight about every god damn thing? Huh? Enough, okay? I'm tired of it. All of it. Dad's dead and you two are battling it out to see who's more miserable?"

"Grace...," Dean started.

"No, Dean. I'm done! If you guys wanna fight, go ahead because it sure as hell won't bring Dad back, okay?" water blurred her vision; she shook her head then put her phone to her ear and stomped off, "I'm calling Ellen."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances and followed Grace, keeping about two feet away from each other and five feet behind Grace. Further down the road, Grace stopped and hung up, turning to face her brothers, "Rakshasa."

"What's that?" Dean asked, calm.

"Ellen's best guess. It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures, they appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without first being invited."

"So they dress up like clowns, and the children invite them in?" Sam asked, a bit dubious.

"Yeah."

"Why don't they just munch on the kids?" Dean asked.

"Don't know," Grace stared down the road. "Not enough meat on the bones...?"

"What else'd you find out?" Sam pressed.

"Well, apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of dead insects."

"Nice," Dean commented.

"Yeah, and they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years. Slow metabolism."

"Well, that makes sense. I mean, the Carnival today, the Bunker Brothers' in '81...," Dean trailed off, seeing his point made.

"Right," Sam agreed. "Probably more before that."

"Hey, who do we know that worked both shows?" Dean asked rhetorically.

Sam and Grace exchanged glances, "Cooper?"

"Cooper."

"You know, that picture of his father, that looked just like him," Sam noted.

"You think maybe it was him?"

"Well, who knows how old he is?"

"Ellen say how to kill him?" Dean asked.

Grace sighed, stuffing her hands in her pockets, "Legend goes, a dagger made of pure brass."

"I think I know where to get one of those."

"Well, before we go stabbing things into Cooper, we're going to want to make damn sure it's him," Sam insisted, looking at Dean.

"Oh, you're such a stickler for details, Sammy," Dean teased, causing Sam to smile. "All right, Grace and I'll round up the blade, you go check if Cooper's got bedbugs."

**Carnival, that night...**

The blind man led Grace and Dean to his trailer, "I got all kinds of knives. I don't know if I've got a brass one, though."

"Let me get that for you," Grace stepped in front and opened the door for the blind man.

"Oh, thank you, dear," he nodded to his right, opposite of where Grace stood. He whacked his cane from side to side as Grace followed him in, Dean bringing up the rear and closing the door. The blind man tapped his trunk, "Check the trunk."

Dean opened the trunk, rifling through it before stopping and standing up. He turned around with wide-eyes, holding a red clown's wig in his hands for Grace to see. When she saw, she mimicked Dean's expression and turned around to stare at the blind man. Dean held out the wig, "You?"

The man dropped his cane and took off his sunglasses to reveal normal eyes, "Me."

His eyes turned cloudy with vertical slit pupils as his face contorted to a Grinch-like smile. He waved playful before disappearing. Grace moved to the door, trying to open it but finding it jammed. Dean pushed her aside, taking over. A knife hit the door, missing Dean's face. Another knife flew out, grazing Grace's arm before burying into the door. Grace cried out, the blade having dug a little deep into her skin. "All right," Dean shouted and kicked open the door, grabbing Grace and running out.

Dean ran out towards the crowd, pulling Grace when they heard Sam's voice, "Hey!"

"Hey, so Cooper thinks I'm a Peeping Tom, but it's not him," Sam replied before noticing Grace's arm and Dean's frazzled state.

"So we gathered," Grace panted, holding her arm.

"It's the blind guy. He's here somewhere," Dean glanced around for any movement.

"Well, did you get the-"

"The brass blades? No, I was kinda busy," he gestured to Grace. She lifted her head, revealing the wound and the rip in her jacket. Sam walked over and ripped the sleeve off, tying it around Grace's wound, "There."

Grace groaned, "My favorite jacket."

"I got an idea. Come on," Sam ushered them to follow him to the Funhouse. Grace slipped out of her ruined jacket and tossed it into a trash can. They entered the funhouse and Sam led the way. As Sam stepped in between two mirrors, the door closed between him and Grace and Dean.

"Sam!" Dean ran to the door, trying to open it.

"Dean! Grace!" he shouted through the door. "Find the maze, okay?"

Grace pulled at Dean's shirt, "Hey, this way."

Dean hesitated but Grace insisted, "Come on, we gotta hurry."

He followed her cautiously through the dark maze. After a minute or two, the found Sam trying to pry a brass pipe off a steaming organ. Grace walked in, "Hey."

"Hey! Where is it?" Sam demanded.

"I don't know, I mean, shouldn't we see its clothes walking around?" Dean asked rhetorically.

"Ellen said they can make anything touching them invisible. Guess that includes clothes," Grace stated, tugging her Evanescence t-shirt down. Dean stared at her, "Oh, did you forget to mention that? Because we could've used that information a little earlier!"

"Oh, sorry, I was busy dealing with my bloody arm!"

"Guys!" Sam shouted, tugging on the brass pipe. Suddenly, two daggers flew out and pinned Dean's right arm to the wall by his shirt. Two more flew out and pinned Grace beside him by her shirt, "Sam!"

Sam pulled the pipe completely off, and stalked over slowly. He dodged just in time as a dagger flew right in front of his face. "Where is it?"

"I don't know," Dean shouted, tugging on the knives. Grace glanced up, seeing a red lever. She reached out and twisted it up, causing more steam to blow out of the organ. Sam continued stalking, looking all over. Suddenly, a vague shape was created in the steam as well as the illuminating of two yellowish eyes. Dean screamed, "Sam, behind you! Behind you!"

Sam thrusted the pipe behind him, stabbing the Rakshasa deep in the gut. It screamed in agony, still invisible as blood dripped off the pipe. It fell back and Grace turned the lever, cutting the steam off. Dean managed to free himself then freed Grace, setting her down gently. They walked over where Sam stood in front of a pile of empty clothes with the bloody brass pipe. Dean panted in exhaustion, "I hate Funhouses."

**July 29, 2006, Roadhouse Saloon...**

Dean, Sam, and Grace sat at the bar of the busy saloon. Ellen handed Sam and Dean beers while she gave Grace a cold bottle of Coke. Ellen wiped her hands, "You did a hell of a job out there. Your Dad would be proud."

"Thanks," Grace nodded, and Ellen smiled before walking away. Jo came and sat on the other side of Dean, giving Grace a smirking look. Dean looked at Jo then back at Grace who rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. We're leaving," she patted Sam's back. "Come on, Sam. Let's go."

"What? Where?"

"Over there. Right now," she pulled him along.

"Why are we going over here?" Sam pulled his shoulder out of her grip, stopping in front of the pool table deck.

"Dean's doing his 'getting laid' thing with Jo."

"Oh, great," Sam sighed. "Awkward."

"Tell me about it."

"Where you guys been?" Ash called out, walking in from the back door, carrying the brown folder and a bizarre looking laptop. "Been waitin' for ya."

"We were working a job, Ash," Grace caught his attention.

"Clowns?" Sam informed.

"Clowns?" Ash frowned at him then turned to Dean. "What the f-"

"Got something for us, Ash?" Dean asked, leaning on the bar.

"Yeah," he walked over and set down his laptop. It looked homemade, decorated with exposed wires and everything. Sam and Grace walked over, "Did you find the demon?"

"It's nowhere around. At least, nowhere I can find. But if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like Divine on dog dookie," Ash reassured them.

"What do you mean?" Grace asked, confused.

"I mean, any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world," Ash turned the laptop around, showing a high tech computer program set up. "My rig'll go off. Like a fire alarm."

"Do you mind?" Dean held his fingers over the keypad, but pulled them back as Ash blocked the screen with his shoulder and gave him a look. "Yeah. Never mind."

"Ash, where did you learn to do all this?" Sam asked, baffled.

"M.I.T. Before I got bounced for... fighting."

"M.I.T.?"

"It's a school in Boston, Sam," Grace replied as if it was obvious.

"Okay. You give us a call as soon as you know something?" Dean ordered, setting down his beer.

"Si, si, compadre," Ash replied, picking up Dean's picking and chugging the rest of it. Dean grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door, Sam and Grace following him. Ellen called out to them at the door, "Hey, if you need a place to stay, I got some beds out back."

Dean exchanged glances with Sam and Grace, "Thanks, but no. There's something I gotta finish."

Ellen nodded, "Okay."

**Bobby's place, later...**

Grace sat behind a beat-up car, holding her knees to her chest as she buried her face in her arms as she heard Dean take his grief and rage out on his Impala. When he finished, she lifted her head, expressionless as she got up, walking over to where Dean stood over his Impala with the crowbar in his hands. She hugged herself, feeling a sudden chill, "Dean?"

He looked up at her, his lip trembling. "Are you okay?"

He threw the crowbar down and stomped over to her, clenching his fist. Grace stood unfazed, dropping her arms to her side. Dean stared down at her, his eyes watering and his jaw tight. Grace stared back, "Its okay. Dean, it's okay."

He shook his head, feeling helpless and the tears shed. Grace reached up and pulled him into a tight hug. Her hugged her back, holding her tight as he buried his head in her shoulder, heaving silently. Grace looked up at the cloudless, blue sky, shedding tears of her own.

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><p><strong>end of chapter 5!<strong>

**dont forget to review!  
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	6. Mother's Love

**chapter 6! this is my own special chapter, i hope ya'll like it  
><strong>

**Disclaimer: i do not own Supernatural**

**Rated M for gore and language**

**enjoy and R&R**

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><p><strong><em>Recap of last chapter...<em>**

_He looked up at her, his lip trembling. "Are you okay?"_

_He threw the crowbar down and stomped over to her, clenching his fist. Grace stood unfazed, dropping her arms to her side. Dean stared down at her, his eyes watering and his jaw tight. Grace stared back, "Its okay. Dean, it's okay."_

_He shook his head, feeling helpless and the tears shed. Grace reached up and pulled him into a tight hug. Her hugged her back, holding her tight as he buried his head in her shoulder, heaving silently. Grace looked up at the cloudless, blue sky, shedding tears of her own._

**August 2, 2006, Sioux Falls, South Dakota, Bobby's place...**

Dean attached the front hood to his Impala, getting halfway down with his work on the car. He turned to his workbench as his cellphone rang. He walked over, wiping his greasy hands on his washcloth. He picked it up and held it up to his ear, "Hello?"

"Dean?" a woman screamed into the phone.

"Huh?" he pulled his head back. "Hello? Who is this?"

"Dean! It's me, Brie! I need help! Please, hurry!"

"Where are you?" Dean demanded, turning towards Bobby's house.

"Winters...Texas," the woman gasped. "Get away from her! Get away!"

"Brie! What's going on?"

"Dean! They took her! Help me! I didn't know who else to call, please! Dean, I-"

Dean glanced at his phone, the call suddenly over. He held it back it his ear, "Hello? Hello! Brie! Brie?"

His eyes flicked back in forth in worry then he took off running to the house. He burst in, Grace and Sam sitting at a table, looking through notes as Bobby made himself a sandwich. They all turned to Dean in curiosity and surprise. Dean panted, "We need to go."

"Why?" Sam asked, getting up in concern.

Dean walked up to him, holding his phone out in his hand, "I just got a call from Brie."

"Brie?"

"Yeah. She's in trouble," Dean walked past him into the main room where their duffle bags were. Grace shifted her seat, "Wait...Brie? Brie Sanchez? The one Dean hooked up with in Vegas?"

"Yeah," Sam replied as Dean ran upstairs. "But...I don't really understand what's going on."

"Well," she turned to Bobby who just munched on his sandwich. "Should we just let Dean go or you think we should all go?"

Bobby shrugged his shoulders, "Beats me. But the name Sanchez does ring a bell."

"You know Brie?"

"No. But, I know a...Carlos Sanchez. He's a hunter from Texas, but I don't know if he's related to this Brie."

Dean came stomping down the stairs, having changed into a clean black t-shirt and a gray button up shirt over it. His duffle bag was full and he glanced at Sam and Grace with wide eyes, "Well, are you guys coming or am I going by myself?"

"Uh, yeah," Grace got up and followed Sam up the stairs. Sam entered the room he shared with Dean to grab his stuff as Grace entered the other spare room. She quickly changed into low cut jeans, her black boots tucked under her jeans, a dark brown v-neck t-shirt, and her new black jacket. She packed her backpack with extra clothes and the basic essentials for any hunt. When she finished, she found Sam and Dean talking to Bobby.

"So?" Dean asked.

"It could be anything...I mean you didn't hear anything in the background?" Bobby held his hands in his vest pockets.

"No, just her screaming."

"Well, take every precaution and if it's a monster, kill it, if it's just a kidnapping, you might have to let the police handle it."

Dean looked a little defeated, "All right, thanks, Bobby."

"No problem. You kids watch yourselves,"

"Will do," Dean walked out, Sam and Grace following.

**August 3, 2006, Winters, Texas, Sanchez residence...**

Dean parked the 1996 Mustang in front of the two-story house on Roberts Street. Sam was beside him, and Grace in the back. They stepped out, noticing the mailbox with the name SANCHEZ written on it in cursive. Sam looked at Dean, "Are you sure this it?"

"Yeah. Called Ellen and she said she only knew of one Sanchez in Winters and this it," Dean stood with his siblings in front of the house. It looked very plain and a bit deserted, the grass of yellowing and the plants on the front porch all dead. They walked to the front door and Dean rang the doorbell. With no answer, he rang it again and knocked. He was about to knock again when the door opened. A woman peered out. She had a gorgeous face, golden brown skin and coco bean hair, but the left side of her face was covered in cuts and bruises. She squinted her eyes, "What do you want?"

"Brie? Brie, it's me, Dean," Dean said softly, smiling.

The woman, Brie stared at him then opened the door and tackled him in a hug, "Dean! Oh, my God, you're here!"

Sam and Grace glanced around, checking to see if anyone was watching. Dean pushed Brie back so he could breathe, "Yes, Brie! I got your call! Are you okay?"

Brie's eyes went wide, she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside, "Come inside, all of you. Hurry!"

They all walked inside, entering a small hallway. Brie slammed the door closed and locked the door. She turned around, looking grim like they were going to be attacked any second. She glanced at Sam and Grace, "Sam? Sam! Wow! Look at you! You've gotten taller! Grace? Man, last time I saw you, you were just 7 years old."

"Nice to see you too, Brie," Grace smiled, feeling uneasy.

Dean caught her attention, "Brie. What happened? Why did you call me?"

"I called you? Oh, that's right, I did," she muttered, looking a little crazy-eyed. "Oh! Dean, they took her! I remember, they took and left me for dead! That evil, damned man! _He_ took her!"

"Who? Brie, calm down. Who was taken?" Dean grabbed her by the elbows, holding her steady.

"He took my daughter, Dean!" she began sobbing. "My...my poor baby."

Dean glanced back at Sam and Grace in confusion. Grace glanced around, seeing pictures of a little girl hanging on the door. Dean talked over Brie's blabbering, "Brie. Brie! Calm down! This isn't going to help. What took your daughter?"

"That evil man!" she spat in anger. "That man with the black eyes."

Dean let go of her in instinct and turned to Sam and Grace in realization. The three of them all had the same thought, _demons. _Brie wiped her eyes, trying to get a hold of herself. She pushed her mane of curls back, standing up straight, "Dean. Please, you have to help me. I didn't know who else to turn to."

"Don't worry, Brie. We'll get your daughter back," he reassured her. Brie smiled then huffed, "Oh, what terrible manners...do you want anything to drink? Tea? Lemonade?"

"Uh...no, we're fine," Dean blinked, a bit bothered by her behavior. "Brie, why don't you tell us everything that happened."

"Okay," she nodded, and gestured for them to enter a small den to her right. The Winchesters entered, sitting on the big couch. Brie sat on the big armchair beside the couch and leaned on her knees. Dean sat closer to her, Grace beside him, and Sam at the other end. Brie tucked her hair behind her ears, showing the full extent of her facial injuries, "It happened yesterday. It was just a normal day. It was about...noon when they came. A group of men led by this old man with these...black eyes. He sent his men on me, but I fought. Not even, obviously. But...after being knocked out, I woke up and found all of them gone along with my daughter."

"Your daughter," Grace leaned forward. "What's her name?"

"Max."

"Brie," Sam caught her attention. "Did the demon say anything?"

"He...wants something from me. Some kind of artifact, but I didn't know what he meant," she pleaded them to believe her.

"What artifact? Was it a cursed object or a relic or what?" Sam pressed.

"Sam," Dean glanced back at him.

"No, it's okay, Dean," Brie tapped his knee. "Um...I think it was this."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a cord necklace with a strange looking cross attached to it. It was coal black, the whole thing looked big and awkward to wear. It looked like two small iron nails molded together to form a cross. The three of them stared at it, Dean asked, "What is it?"

"I don't know. I found it in one of the floorboards when I first came here," she handed it to him, careful not to touch the cross itself. Dean grabbed it, turning the cross over in his hand, seeing nothing special about it, "What's so special about it?"

"I don't know. But they really wanted it and something else."

"What?"

"I actually found two things in the floorboards. This cross and another, the demons took that but not this one which is why I think they took Max."

Dean handed it to Sam who handed it to Grace. Grace felt a weird tingling in her hands and fingers as she touched the strange cross. She examined it, noticing it that it had been broken and molded to create this cross. The pointed ends look welded on, and the top of the cross was big and flat, almost like the cross was made from a...

"Nail."

"What?" Dean and the others looked back at her. Grace looked at them, "This cross...it looks like it was made from an iron nail. A really big one too. Like...railroad type nail."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, look at it," she handed it to him. "The flat top. The iron. The mold of it."

Sam's eyes went wide, "You're right. Brie, why would demons want a cross made from a railroad nail?"

She shrugged, "I have no idea, to be honest. I figured you would know. You're more...experienced with this stuff."

"Well, I've never seen something like this. What was the other thing they stole?"

Brie cleared her throat in thought, "Just a wooden cross."

"Okay, did the demons say anything about where they're going?" Dean asked.

"Um...yes, the man-demon. He said if I wanted Max back I had to give him this cross. He said I had 24 hours," he lip trembled. "Or..."

"Brie, did he say where to meet him?" Dean shook her to keep her focused.

"...yes. At a warehouse on Main Street. Dean, we have till noon," she stuttered. Dean glanced at the clock on the wall, seeing the time. 10:53 am. He glanced at Sam and Grace real quick, "Brie, we'll get Max back, but you need to listen to us."

"Okay, what-what do you need me to do?"

**Warehouse, noon...**

Dean parked the Mustang across the street. A white van was parked at the entrance; the building itself looked empty. Dean grabbed his gun and checked to make sure he still hand chalk. Sam and Grace did the same. Brie hyperventilated in worry, stuffing a small pistol in her jacket. Dean turned back to look at her, "Okay, you remember the plan?"

Brie nodded, "Yeah. I go in. Stall. Run out like hell so you can trap him."

"Good," he glanced at Grace.

"I know, I know," she got out. Dean and Sam took off across the street with Brie to the front. Grace ran around it, heading to the back. She found only a door in the back with a garage door. She pulled out her yellow chalk and began drawing a Devil's Trap in front of the back door and the garage. When she finished, she picked the lock and slowly walked in, her gun at the ready. In the back, she found a flight of stairs leading into a small office. She pointed her gun inside the small office, finding it empty expect for several monitors. She set her gun down beside her and turned on the monitors. Finding most of them looking at nothing, but one outside in the front got Sam and Dean drawing their circle, and another screen showed Brie standing in the middle of the warehouse with a middle-aged man. Grace frowned, Brie was supposed to go in with the boys. She found a volume control for the monitor and turned it almost all the way up.

Brie's voice came on, "...well, old man? You have it?"

"Where is she? I need to know she's safe," the man responded, an accent hinted in his voice.

"Oh, she's safe as she can be," Brie cocked her head. "Do you have it?"

"No. I told you...I don't have it."

"I don't believe you," Brie sing-songed. "I know you have it, so give it to me or I kill the Winchesters."

"What?" the man gasped.

"Oh, yeah. I got them here. I know how you're tight with John Winchester...hand the damn thing over and I won't kill them or the girl," Brie held out her hand. "Now."

The man hesitated and reached into his back pocket. Brie hummed, "See, now is that so hard?"

The man whipped his hand out and fired a shot, holding a pistol in his hand. Grace's jaw dropped as Brie remained standing. Brie glanced down at her wound then twisted her hand. The man screamed out in pain, as his legs crumpled beneath him. Brie pulled out her pistol and poured her bullets into the man. When it clicked empty, she tossed the gun then turned and ran back to the front. Grace stood up, glancing at the other monitor where Brie emerged from inside the warehouse and into Dean's arms, holding her stomach wound. Grace pulled out her cellphone as she grabbed her gun and ran out of the office. Sam picked up, "Grace?"

"Sam!"

"What?"

"Get Dean away from Brie! Now!"

"Why? Grace, she was shot. We didn't even notice her leaving and-"

"Sam, that isn't Brie. I just watched the security footage of her exchange with the old man," Grace ran into the main room of the warehouse. "She killed him. He's not possessed! She is!"

"What're you-"

"Sam?" Grace stopped, hearing a crash. "Sam? Sam!"

The line beeped then went dead. Grace glanced at her phone then ran to the man's side. He laid with his arms out, covered in blood and barely breathing. Grace scooped his head up, "Hey, hey...can you hear me?"

The man fluttered his eyes open, "B...Brie...she...she's..."

"I know, she's possessed," she nodded then swallowed. "Are-are you Carlos Sanchez?"

The man looked up at her, "Yeah...who...?"

"I'm Grace Winchester."

"Winchester," he sighed in relief. "Please...save my granddaughter."

"Who, Max?"

"Yes. The demon in Brie...took her from me," he slowly reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a funky wooden cross. "Here. This is what the demon wanted. It already has the other one."

"What is this?" she took the cross.

"Its...it's a piece of...the True Cross..."

"What? Hey, hey, Carlos...Carlos!" she shook him but he just stared. Grace hanged her head in defeat. She set him down gently and stuffed the cross in her jacket pocket and dialed 911. Before the operator could talk, she said, "I need an ambulance. A man's been shot multiple times. He's dead."

"Tell me where you are-"

"A warehouse on Main street. Trace the call," Grace tossed the phone and ran to the front entrance, bursting out the door. She stood in the sunlight, finding Dean, Sam, and Brie gone along with the white minivan and an unfinished Devil's Trap on the ground. She heard faint sirens and ran across the street, opening the Mustang driver's side door and sitting in. She pulled the sun visor down and a spare set of keys fell into her lap.

"Thank you, Dean," she muttered as she started the car and closed the door, taking off down the road, stopping the side so the paramedics could pass through. She kept driving, reaching Brie's house within 20 minutes. She parked across the street. She grabbed the wooden cross and her pistol and snuck around the house, avoiding the front door. She hopped the fence and entered the back, finding a window open by the living room. Brie was sauntering around Sam and Dean who were tied back-to-back to two chairs. Grace lowered her head, holding the gun at the ready, waiting for the perfect moment.

"De-an. Sa-am," Brie sing-songed. "Hello, boys. You look awful. Didn't you get a good nap?"

"What'd you do with Brie?" Dean growled.

Brie laughed inhumanly, "Oh, don't worry. She's in here, but...I'm not sure for how long."

"You let her go now, you son of a bitch or I swear I'll-"

"You'll what?" the demon demanded. "See, you boys caused my Daddy alot of trouble. Although, taking your Dad's soul was a good deal that cheered him up."

"You bitch," Sam's voice trembled.

"Sammy, how rude."

Sam grunted, the sound of a slap echoing out of the room. "Your mother lets you talk like to her? Oh, wait, she's dead."

"Shut the fuck up!" Dean shouted.

"No, Dean, you shut up! Both of you!" Brie's shoes clicked on the floor. "I called you out here as leverage."

"Leverage for what?"

"To get the other relic, of course. Daddy wants it to make sure no one can try to kill him." Grace heard the demons footsteps grow closer. "I was hoping to use you Winchesters to convince the old man to hand over the other cross. And it looks like it worked."

Grace aimed her gun as Brie's hand reached out and grabbed her collar, pulling her in and tossing her where her brothers were tied up. "Grace!" Dean and Sam shouted.

The demon stalked over, holding Grace's gun in her hands. She bent it, breaking it in half and tossing the pieces over her shoulders. Grace turned over, wincing as her shoulder throbbed in pain, feeling her whole right arm go numb from the impact. The demon stood with her hands on her hips, "You didn't think I left that window open by accident did you?"

"Grace!" Sam shouted.

"Grace, you okay?" Dean shouted, trying to look down at her.

"I'm fine," she gritted her teeth, leaning her head on the chairs. "The old man...is Carlos Sanchez. Brie's father."

"What?" Dean glanced up at Brie who just smiled as if embarrassed.

"Brie's trying to get the relics from Carlos. This is his house. He's a hunter and one of Dad's close friends."

The demon clapped, "Bravo. No, really. I mean, I thought I had you all fooled which I did. How did you figure this all out?"

"The security camera were still working," Grace informed, trying to sit up.

"Wow," the demon laughed. "Good job, you really are a good hunter."

"Coming from a demon, that means the world to me," Grace smirked.

"Such a smart ass, I love it!" the demon walked over to a closet door just outside the living room. "You know what else I love? Surprises!"

She opened the door and pulled out a rolling office chair with a young girl tied to it. The girl's whole mouth was covered by duck tape, and her face was wet from fresh tears. The demon pushed the girl to the Winchesters excitedly, "See? Such lovely surprises."

"Let the girl go," Dean demanded.

"Oh, Dean, you don't want this pretty little girl to go, do you? After all, a little family reunion is sweet."

"What're you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the summer of 1995," she bent down and draped her arm over the girl's shoulders. "You and slutty little Brie Sanchez in Las Vegas. You know what I'm talking about."

"What about it?" Dean asked, slowly remembering.

"Aw, come on, don't be shy. You shook Brie's trees all summer long. You two even got drunk one night and got hitched in a cheap wedding chapel."

"What?" Dean frowned. "No, we didn't."

She looked at him and pulled out a big class ring from her jean pocket. Dean's eyes went wide, "How'd you get that?"

"I told you. You married Brie," she tossed the ring into Dean's lap. "Poor Brie. After you left, she tried to call you to end the marriage. But, surprise, surprise...she couldn't reach you."

Dean swallowed, letting guilt show on his face. The demon whispered into the girl's ear, "See, men are just dogs. They take all they can form you and leave."

"Shut up!" Dean demanded. "Leave her alone. Let the girl go! Its us you want."

"That's where you're wrong, Dean," the demon stroked the girl's hair. "This girl is just as important as you Winchesters are."

"Why?"

"Didn't I tell you? I thought I had," she looked shocked with herself. The demon smiled and grabbed the girl's chin, "Dean Winchester...meet Maxine Winchester."

The three Winchesters stared at her, eyes wide. Dean's lip trembled, "Wha...what?"

"I told you. You and Brie got it on and nine months later, a little bundle of joy," the demon kissed the girl's tear stained cheek. She stood up and walked over to Dean, stroking his face affectionately, "Oh, you poor, poor thing."

Dean ignored her, staring at the little girl, Max, in disbelief. The demon continued, "After Brie gave birth, she dumped the brat on her dad and took off. Determined to find you and demand a divorce. 10 years and she still couldn't find you. Tsk tsk."

Grace reached into her pocket slowly, grabbing the wooden cross. Sam glared at the demon, "Why do you want the crosses?"

The demon turned to him, "Oh, Sam. Always down to business."

She walked around Grace and leaned in close to him, "Those crosses...they're relics. Arma Christi. Very powerful things that call kill demons. Even one like my Daddy. You remember him, right?"

"Yeah, he killed my Mom and our Dad."

"Oh, don't take it personally. It's just business," she reassured him, tapping his cheek. "You Winchesters have been a pain in the ass for a long time. Daddy's got a plan. A plan for all of you. So...Gracie, you have the cross I need?"

Grace held the wooden cross out for her to see. The demon smiled, "Ah, yes. Give it here. Daddy will be so happy."

The demon approached her, and Grace lashed out, digging the cross into Brie's skin. The demon screamed out, her skin smoking as a black patch formed on her arm; Grace got to work on untying her brothers. "You little shit! How dare you! I should of killed you when at the chance."

Grace stopped, something ringing a bell in her head. She turned around, "What did you say?"

The demon seethed, holding her arm, "Didn't your whore of a father tell you? How your Mommy died?"

Grace stared in disbelief, "You're...Amy."

Amy tilted her head, "He did tell you. Good. Makes things easier."

Grace was suddenly thrown across the room to the wall, pinned. Amy sauntered over to her, her eyes black, "You know...I'm unimpressed. Your Mama could handle me and an abomination inside her and still maintain control of her own body. You...are just a wannabe Winchester. Even the brat here as more fight than you."

Grace groaned under the force, her rage increasing, "You shut your fucking mouth! I swear to God I'm going to kill you!"

"What can you do? Without the Colt, you're powerless," Amy teased. "But feel free. Just come down and kill me, if you ca-"

Amy fell forward, and Grace dropped. Max stood with a pistol in her hand, the gun smoking from the shot. Grace got up and grabbed the gun from Max, "Go. Help them."

Max turned and ran clumsily to Sam, untying him. Grace turned to Amy who groaned as she slowly got up, "Damn, that hurt. That really hurt. What'd you do, soak the bullet in salty Holy Water?"

Grace cocked the gun and held it at Amy. Amy scoffed, standing up completely, facing her, "What're you gonna do? That won't kill me. It won't bring back your Mommy."

"Tell me. You killed her, didn't you," Grace's eyes watered.

Amy smiled devilishly, "I did. I ripped her insides out. It's too bad I missed out on killing you."

Amy lunged, kicking the gun out of Grace's hand then turning and kicking her in the face. Amy grabbed Grace and threw her across the room, sending her crashing into the coffee table. "Grace!" Sam shouted, pushing Max to Dean as he worked on his ankle bounds.

Amy turned Grace over and started pounding her fists in her face. Max tugged on Dean's hand bounds while Sam struggled with his left ankle. Amy stopped and held Grace's bobbin head close, "You what my single regret is? Not killing your Dad. I knew I should've ripped his heart out as he sat there blubbering like a baby over your Mama's rotten' corpse!"

"YOU'RE DEAD!" Grace head-butted her. Amy fell back and Grace leapt on her, placing her palms on Amy's chest. Suddenly, Amy screamed as her eyes and mouth glowed golden yellow, her hands outstretched. When the light disappeared, Brie fell back with her eyes closed, dead. Grace stood there, arms still outstretched. Dean, Sam, and Max looked up at her. Grace looked back at them, then at her hands, turning them over.

**Later, outside the Sanchez residence...**

The paramedics pulled Brie out on a stretcher, the body bag zipped up all the way. Sam and Grace stood leaning on the car. They hadn't spoken since they called the police. Sam glanced at her, Grace had her arms folded, "So..."

"So?"

"You wanna talk about what happened?"

She shrugged, glaring at the house, "I don't know what to tell you, Sam. I was...I was just pissed. Really, really pissed. And I just wanted that demon to die. I...I don't know how I did that."

Sam stared at her for a moment then glanced at the paramedics, "Well, whatever it was. Maybe Dad's journal has something about it. We'll figure it out."

Grace nodded and Sam reached his hand out, rubbing her back to comfort her. As the paramedics loaded Brie's body into the ambulance, Max stood with Dean, watching. When they left, Dean glanced at Max, looking down, noticing an almost two foot difference between them. Max had cleaned her face up, her light brown hair pulled back into a ponytail with her bangs curling down the sides of her cute, round face. Her hazel-brown eyes staring unblinking as she watched the ambulance disappear down the street. She stood with her hands in her jacket pockets, looking up as Dean turned to her. "Hey, um...I'm sorry about your Mom."

Max shrugged, "I never really met her."

"Yeah," Dean wiped his face. "Uh, do you have any family relatives?"

"No. Well, my grandpa, but...Grace-" she nodded to Grace- "told me he's dead."

Dean bit the corner of his lip in thought, "Listen, I have a friend in South Dakota."

She looked up at him, "You're gonna dump me on a friend? Oh, yeah, very subtle."

"Look, Bobby, he's...he's a good guy and we could talk about you living there."

Max looked down and fidgeted, "Look, I know I'd be a burden, so just...dump me at the nearest orphanage. I'll be fine."

"No," Dean stated, staring seriously. "I wouldn't do that to you. I had to find out from a damn demon that I have a kid, I'm not about to just drop you off somewhere and never look back."

"And that's not the same as dumping me at your friend, Bobby's?"

"No," Dean huffed in frustration. "Max...I'm always on the road. Hunting. I don't have a house. A home."

Max blinked and looked away, "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"Nothing, I just...when my grandpa told me that my Mom took off to look for you to divorce, I thought that...," she sighed. "I thought you were some no good, son of a bitch dog. But...I guess you're not that bad. I'll, um, I'll go with you. If you want, we could get to know one another."

"I'd like that," Dean smiled. "By the way, how old are you?"

"10. I turn 11 on February 17."

"Hm," Dean gestured for her to follow him to the car. "I remember being 10. I was one badass fifth grader."

Max looked at him, Dean smirked at her, and she laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, boy."

**August 4, 2006, Sioux Falls, South Dakota, Bobby's place...**

Dean, Sam, and Grace stood in front of Bobby's desk with the two crosses laid out in it. Max sat in the only seat in front of it with Bobby behind the desk, he rubbed his hands together in thought. Dean spoke first, "So, what do you think Bobby?"

"Well, I got three spare bedrooms upstairs. Max, you're welcome to stay here so long as you live by my rules."

Max nodded, "Yes sir."

"What about school?" Grace asked, arms folded. "It's August. School will start soon."

Max glanced back at her then at Bobby, "Grandpa was home-schooling me. He was on the road alot despite having a house. He took me along sometimes."

Bobby exchanged glances with Dean who shrugged, "All right. We'll work on continuing the home-schooling. If you want, I could take trip to get you to the Elementary School in town."

"Whatever works for ya'll," Max glanced back at Dean. "I promise. I won't be a bother."

"Don't worry about it," he reassured her.

"Now, that that's settled, we need to talk about these," Bobby held the two crosses up.

"Right," Sam agreed. Max glanced at Dean who gestured for her to follow him. She got up out of her seat and Grace took her spot. Bobby set the crosses down, "Well...I think that demon was telling the truth. These are relics. Specifically, one that have come into contact with Jesus Christ himself."

"Are you serious?" Grace grabbed the one she burned Amy with.

"As a heart attack. That one there, that's made from the wood of the True Cross."

"Which is?" Sam asked.

"The cross Jesus was crucified on," Bobby handed a book to Sam, then picked up the other cross. "And this one...I think is one of the four Nails of Helena."

"...nails that pinned Jesus to the cross?" Grace guessed and Bobby nodded. "But...why would this matter to the demon? And why did Carlos have it?"

"You got me," Bobby shrugged. "He never left the country as far as I know. He rarely left Texas as a matter of fact."

"So...how does a homesick Hunter end up with two powerful relics?" Grace asked, glancing at Sam who shrugged.

"I don't know."

**Junkyard...**

"There it is," Dean gestured to the half-finished Impala. Max's jaw dropped as she walked over to it, "Wha...is it a...1970 Impala?"

"1967," he corrected. "But close."

"Wow, what did you do to it?" she glanced inside, smelling the fresh new car smell already taking place.

"We got hit by an eighteen wheeler," Dean replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "The AC was still working so I got to work on it."

"Wow," she ran her hand along the car's frame. "You must really love this car."

"It's my baby," he tapped it's back window. Max glanced up at him, "How much do you have left to fix?"

"The engine and whole back. Do you-" he grabbed a wrench from his workbench- "you wanna help me finish it?"

"I don't know how."

Dean shook his head, "Good time as any to learn."

Dean tossed the wrench and she caught it. A smile spread on her mouth as Dean grabbed a towel and laid it down under the car. "Here, lay under it."

She got down and laid under it on her back, Dean got down and laid next to her, "All right, you wanna screw that in. Yeah, like that. Wow, you're a natural. Okay, and that there, too."

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><p><strong>end of chapter 6!<strong>

**don't forget to review! hoped you liked the my chapter!  
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	7. Dead Man's Blood

**chapter 7! we're back in black! (and i messed up on Max Winchester's birthday: it's not Feb 17, it's Feb 27)  
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**disclaimer: i do not own Supernatural**

**Rated M for gore and language**

**enjoy and R&R**

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><p><strong><em>Recap of last chapter...<em>**

_Dean shook his head, "Good time as any to learn."_

_Dean tossed the wrench and she caught it. A smile spread on her mouth as Dean grabbed a towel and laid it down under the car. "Here, lay under it."_

_She got down and laid under it on her back, Dean got down and laid next to her, "All right, you wanna screw that in. Yeah, like that. Wow, you're a natural. Okay, and that there, too."_

**August 29, 2006, on the road...**

Dean rode the Impala up the hill, it glisten in the sunlight as if brand new. Dean kept a smile on his face, "Woo! Listen to her purr! Have you ever heard anything so sweet?"

"You know, if you two want to get a room, just let us know, Dean," Sam teased.

"Oh, don't listen to him, baby. He doesn't understand us," Dean petted his car.

"You're in a good mood."

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"No reason."

"Got my car, got a case, things are looking up."

"Wow," Grace blinked, looking up from her notes. "You hear a couple of severed heads and a pile of dead cows and you're Mister Sunshine."

Dean laughed, "How far to Red Lodge?"

"Uh, about another three hundred miles," Grace said, sighing.

"Good." Dean stepped on the gas, flooring it.

**August 30, 2006, Red Lodge, Montana, Sheriff's office...**

Dean and Sam were dressed in nice suits with press IDs, while Grace wore a nice navy blue dress with a press ID of her own. She pushed up her fake glasses as the sheriff smiled at them, "The murder investigation is ongoing, and that's all I can share with the press at this time."

"Sure, sure, we understand that, but just for the record, you found the first, uh, head last week, correct?" Sam asked, scribbling notes down on his notepad.

"Mm-hmm," the sheriff nodded.

"Okay, and the other, a uh, Christina Flanigan?" Sam pressed on.

"That was two days ago. Is there -" the sheriff looked past them, seeing a blond woman pointing to her watch and he nodded. "Oh. Sorry, time's up, we're done here."

Sam fidgeted, "One last question -"

"What about the cattle?" Grace asked.

"Excuse me?" the sheriff gave her a weird look.

"You know, the cows found dead, split open, drained... over a dozen cases."

"What about them?"

"So you don't think there's a connection?" Dean asked, raising a brow.

The sheriff shook his head, "Connection... with..."

"First cattle mutilations, now two murders?" Grace pointed out as if it was obvious. "Kinda sounds like ritual stuff."

"You know, like satanic cult ritual stuff?" Dean suggested.

The sheriff burst out into laughter, "You -" he stopped- "you're not kidding."

"No."

The sheriff gave them a look of stupidity, "Those cows aren't being mutilated. You wanna know how I know?"

"How?" Sam asked seriously.

"Because there's no such thing as cattle mutilation," he explained like he was talking to a five year old. "Cow drops, leave it in the sun, within forty eight hours the bloat will split it open so clean it's just about surgical. The bodily fluids fall down into the ground and get soaked up because that's what gravity does. But, hey, it could be Satan. What newspaper did you say you work for?"

"World Weekly News," Dean stated first.

"Weekly World News," Grace corrected.

Dean glanced at her, "World-"

She interrupted him, "Weekly World-"

"Weekly...," he turned to the sheriff and smiled. "I'm new."

"Get out of my office."

**Chandler County Hospital, morgue...**

Dean and Sam had changed into lab coats, still wearing there same ties. Grace had changed into black slacks, heels, and a gray top under her lab coat. Dean walked into the morgue first, seeing an intern at the desk. He noticed the name tag: J. Manners. Dean smiled at the intern, "John."

"Jeff," the intern corrected, standing.

"Jeff. I know that," Dean replied, reassuring him. "Dr. Dworkin needs to see you in his office right away."

"But Dr. Dworkin's on vacation."

"Well, he's back. And he's pissed, and he's screaming for you, man, so if I were you I would..."

The intern took off running out the door. Dean turned back to glance at Sam and Grace, "Hey, those satanists in Florida, they marked their victims, didn't they?"

"Yeah, reversed pentacle on the forehead," Sam replied as Grace walked over and pulled Christina Flanigan's body out.

"Yeah. So much f-d up crap happens in Florida," Dean muttered. Dean handed Sam and Grace latex gloves. They put on the gloves and surrounded the body with a large box in between the legs. Dean cleared his throat and looked at Sam, "All right, open it."

"You open it."

"Wuss."

"Shut up."

"Oh, my God. You guys are such babies," Grace grabbed the box and brought it over to another table. She lifted the lid up and grimaced as Sam and Dean walked over, "Well, no pentagram."

Sam glanced inside the box, "Wow. Poor girl."

"Maybe we should, uh, you know, look in her mouth, see if those wackos stuffed anything down her throat. You know, kinda like Moth in Silence of the Lambs," Dean smiled and nudged Sam.

"Yeah, here, go ahead," Grace turned the head to Dean.

"No, let Sam do it."

"What?" Sam squeaked.

"Put the lotion in the basket."

"Right, yeah, I'm the wuss, huh?"

"Stop it. Damn it, I'll do it," Grace turned the box to her. The girl's eyes staring at her. Grace opened the mouth and dug her fingers into there. Grace looked away, "Dean, get me a bucket?"

"You find something?"

"No, I'm going to puke."

"Wait, lift the lip up again?" Sam said.

"What? You want me to throw up, is that it?" Grace glared at him.

"No, no, no, I think I saw something," Sam reached over and pulled the lip back.

"What is that, a hole?" Dean asked, leaning in.

Sam felt around the hole in the gum and a canine poked out, "It's a tooth."

"Sam, that's a fang," Dean corrected, straightening up. "Retractable set of vampire fangs, you've got to be kidding me."

"Well, this changes things."

"Ya think?" Grace gave him a look.

**That night, alley by a bar...**

Grace laid in waiting. Sam and Dean had passed her and flashed a smile-the signal. A dark figure followed suit. From the moonlight, Grace could tell he was African-American, dressed in jeans, a plaid shirt, and a jacket. The man stopped, having lost sight of Sam and Dean. He stood there puzzled, glancing around. Grace took the importunity to lunge and kick him against the wall. Sam and Dean popped out, pinning against the wall as Grace pulled out a large knife and held it to the man's throat "Smile."

"What?" the man looked back and forth between them.

"Show us those pearly whites," Dean smirked.

"Oh, for the love of-you wanna stick that someone else? I'm not a vampire," the man barked at Grace. Grace frowned at the man, "Gordon? Gordon Walker?"

"Grace?" the man frowned. Sam and Dean glanced back and forth between them as Grace pulled away, "Guys, guys, he's okay. He's like us. A Hunter."

Sam and Dean exchanged glances then released him. Gordon adjusted his jacket and glared at the two boys, "Thanks. Now, who the hell are you?"

**Gordon's car...**

Gordon sat int he driver's seat of his red 1979 El Camino and pulled out his arsenal from behind the front seat. Gordon gave a big-toothed smile, "Wow, Sam and Dean Winchester. I can't believe it. You know I met your old man once, Grace was with him. Hell of a guy. Great hunter. I heard he passed. I'm sorry. It's big shoes. But from what I hear you guys fill 'em. Great trackers, good in a tight spot-"

"You seem to know a lot about our family," Dean commented.

"Word travels fast. You know how hunters talk."

"No, we don't, actually."

"I guess there's a lot your dad never told you, huh?" Gordon glanced at Grace who looked away.

"So, um, so those two vampires, they were yours, huh?" Sam asked.

"Yep. Been here two weeks."

"Did you check out that Barker farm?" Grace asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"It's a bust. Just a bunch of hippie freaks. Though they could kill you with that patchouli smell alone."

"Where's the nest, then?"

Gordon scoffed and pushed his arsenal back into his car, "I've got this one covered. Look, don't get me wrong. It's a real pleasure meetin' you fellas. But I've been on this thing over a year. I killed a fang back in Austin, tracked the nest all the way up here. I'll finish it."

"We could help," Dean suggested.

"Thanks, but uh, I'm kind of a go-it-alone type of guy."

"Come on, man, I"ve been itching for a hunt," Dean pleaded.

"Sorry. But hey, I hear there's a Chupacabra two states over. You go ahead and knock yourselves out," he got into his car, but then leaned out to look at them. "It was real good meeting you, though. I'll buy you a drink on the flip side."

He started the car and took off. Grace looked back at Sam and Dean, "We're gonna follow him, right?"

Sam and Dean exchanged glances, "Yeah."

**September 1, 2006, at a mill...**

The Winchesters walked up the steps, finding Gordon having the crap beat out of him by a large vampire. The vampire pushed Gordon under a buzzing electrical saw, the giant started pulling the saw down to kill Gordon, but Sam and Grace ran over and pulled Gordon out from under the saw by his feet. The vampire turned around and received a punch to the face. Dean used all his strength, pounding his fists into the monster's face. He pushed it onto the electric saw and stabbed it with a broken pipe. The vampire screamed in agony as Dean reached up and pulled the saw down, the chain blade slowly digging into the vampire's neck, eventually severing its head. Dean glanced at Sam, Grace, and Gordon, his face splattered with blood. Gordon snickered, "So, uh, I guess I gotta buy you that drink."

**In the motel, that night...**

Sam entered the room, dropping the keys on the hook. Grace sat at the edge of one of the beds while she searched through her laptop. Sam sighed as he plopped down on the bed, "Hey, Grace?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you know about Gordon?"

Grace looked up from her laptop, "Not much. I met him in Austin with Dad. Dad and I were heading over there to take care of a nest, but Gordon was on his way out saying it had it covered. He seemed like a nice guy. But when Dad offered to help, Gordon got all territorial and said it was his case and he wanted to do it alone."

"So what did Dad do?"

Grace shrugged, "Dad let him go, but after Gordon left...Dad was telling me how he didn't like Gordon. Said the man was a cold-blooded killer."

"Is he?"

"Who, Gordon? I don't know," she set her laptop down off her lap. "We only met him then and that was it. I don't know much about him and Dad didn't like him on instinct."

Sam sat up, thinking, "Maybe we should call Ellen, see what she knows?"

"Yeah," Grace pulled out her cellphone, moving to sit in front of Sam as she put the phone on speaker.

"Harvelle's Roadhouse."

"Hey, Ellen," Grace spoke. "It's Grace and Sam. Winchester."

"Hey, it's good to hear from you," Ellen said friendly-like. "You guys are okay, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine. Got a question."

"Yeah, shoot."

"You ever run across a guy named Gordon Walker?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I know Gordon."

"And?"

"Well, he's a real good hunter. Why are you asking, sweetie?"

"Well, we ran into him on a job and we're kinda working with him, I guess," Grace replied, shrugging at Sam.

"Don't do that," Ellen warned.

Sam glanced at Grace then at the phone, "I - I thought you said he was a good hunter."

"Yeah, and Hannibal Lecter's a good psychiatrist. Look, he is dangerous to everyone and everything around him. If he's working on a job you boys just let him handle it and you move on."

"Ellen-"

"No. Grace? Sam? You just listen to what I'm telling you, okay?"

"Right, okay."

"Okay, good. Listen, Gordon is a good hunter...in the sense that, he finds a monster and kills it. He gets a job done."

"So, why does that make him dangerous?" Grace asked.

"_Because_...he has no value for life. If he's with someone, he won't hesitate to use them as bait or even care about them if they got hurt. He's ruthless. He'll stop at nothing to finish his job, even if that means sacrificing someone else. To him, all monsters are evil and he's gotta kill them. It's all black and white to him."

Sam and Grace exchanged glances, "I think I know where you're going with this. All right, we'll talk to Dean. Thanks, Ellen."

"No problem. You kids be careful."

"Bye," Grace clicked the phone. Sam sat back, "We gotta tell Dean."

"Obviously," she poked her head with corner of her phone. "Why not just wait till Dean gets back? At least then, he'll be away from Gordon."

"Yeah, sounds good," he stood up and walked over to the door. "I'm gonna go for a walk. And grab a soda. You want anything?"

"No, but thanks. Be careful."

"Yeah," he pulled on his jacket then stepped out, closing the door softly behind him. After an hour or so, Grace shut her laptop off and laid back on the bed, rolling onto her stomach as sleep overtook her body. After several hours, she woke up from a nudge on her feet. "Hey, Grace, wake up. Where's Sam?"

"Huh?" she rolled forward, sitting up. "What?"

"Where's Sam?" Dean asked, standing over her.

"He went for a walk and a soda," she rolled back onto her stomach, hugging the pillow.

"See, Dean, I told you," someone else spoke. "Sam seems like the walking type."

Grace turned her head on the pillow, seeing Gordon sitting at the table by the window. The motel door opened and Sam walked in, looking a little bothered. Dean turned to him, "Where you been?"

Sam frowned at Gordon then looked at Dean and Grace, "Can I talk to you two? Alone?"

"Sure," Grace rubbed her eyes and got up, walking past Dean to follow Sam outside.

"You don't mid chillin' out for a couple minutes?" Dean smiled at Gordon, making his way to the door. He smiled and Dean walked out, closing the door behind him. Sam stood by the stairs, "Look, maybe we've got to rethink this hunt."

"What are you talking about? Where were you?" Dean demanded.

"In the nest."

"What?" Grace went wide-eyed, grabbing his shirt and checking his arms and his neck.

"You found it?" Dean smiled.

"Dean!"

"No, Grace, I'm okay, they...let me go. They found me and they let me go," he adjusted his shirt.

"Be real, man. How many did you kill?"

Sam stared at him, "None."

"Well Sam, they didn't just let you go."

"That's exactly what they did. I told you."

"Well, where is the nest?" Grace asked.

"I was blindfolded, I don't know."

"Well, you've got to know something," Dean insisted.

"We went over that bridge outside of town, but listen. Maybe we shouldn't go after them."

"Why not?" Grace frowned, folding her arms.

"I don't think they're like other vampires. I don't think they're killing people."

Dean scoffed, "You're joking. Then how do they stay alive? Or undead, or whatever the hell they are."

"The cattle mutilations," Grace realized.

"Yeah. They said they live off of animal blood."

"And you believed them?" Dean shook his head in disbelief.

"Look at me, Dean. They let me go without a scratch."

"Wait, so you're saying... No, man, no way. I don't know why they let you go. I don't really care. We find 'em, we waste 'em," Dean started walking back to the room.

"Why?" Sam followed him.

Dean stopped, "What part of 'vampires' don't you understand, Sam? If it's supernatural, we kill it, end of story. That's our job."

"No, Dean, that is not our job. Our job is hunting evil. And if these things aren't killing people, they're not evil!"

"Of course they're killing people, that's what they do. They're all the same, Sam. They're not human, okay? We have to exterminate every last one of them."

"Dean, I think Sam's right about this. Vampires don't usual just let humans go. They kidnap and feed. Sam looks whole and healthy," Grace pointed out, gesturing to Sam.

"Gordon's been on those vamps for a year, man, he knows," Dean insisted.

"Gordon?" Sam and Grace scoffed in surprise.

"Yes."

"You're taking his word for it?" Sam squeaked in frustration.

"That's right."

"Dean, Ellen says he's bad news," Grace stated.

"You called Ellen?" Dean blinked, glancing at Sam who nodded. "And I'm supposed to listen to her? We barely know her, Sam, no thanks, I'll go with Gordon."

"Right, 'cause Gordon's such an old friend. You don't think I can see what this is?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean shook his head.

"He's a substitute for Dad, isn't he? A poor one."

"Shut up, Sam."

"He's not even close, Dean. Not on his best day."

"Sam, stop," Grace tugged his arm.

"You know what? I'm not even going to talk about this," Dean waved his hands and turned to the motel.

"You know, you slap on this big fake smile but I can see right through it," Sam stopped him.

"Sam. Sammy, stop it, right now."

"Grace, shut up," Sam turned back to Dean. "I know how you feel, Dean. Dad's dead. And he left a hole, and it hurts so bad you can't take it, but you can't just fill up that hole with whoever you want to. It's an insult to his memory."

"Okay," Dean started to walk away then punched Sam hard in the face.

"Damn it, Dean," Grace pushed him away and helped Sam up. Sam held his hand to his cheek and glared at Dean, "You hit me all you want. It won't change anything."

"I'm going to that nest. You don't want to tell me where it is, fine. I'll find it myself," Dean walked back to the motel.

"Dean?" Grace called after him. "Come on, Sam."

The followed Dean inside, finding the room empty. Dean panicked, "Gordon?"

"You think he went after them?" Grace asked, finding the table clean.

"Probably."

"Dean, we have to stop him," Sam insisted, blocking the doorway.

"Really, Sam?" Dean shouted. "Because I say we lend a hand."

"Just give me the benefit of the doubt, would you? You owe me that."

"Yeah, we'll see. I'll drive. Give me the keys."

"He snaked the keys," Grace gestured to the clean table; no notes, no keys, no nothing. They packed up quickly and made their way to the Impala. Dean unlocked it, since the windows were down, and got in. He began working on hotwiring it, grimiciang as he did. "I can't believe this. I just fixed her up, too."

The car purred to life and Dean sat up, "So the bridge, is that all you got?"

"The bridge was four and a half minutes from their farm," Sam overlooked the map.

"How do you know?"

"I counted."

"Okay," Grace raised her brows, impressed. "What else?"

"They took a left out of the farm, then turned right onto a dirt road, followed that for two minutes slightly up a hill, then took another quick right and we hit the bridge."

"You're good. You're a monster pain in the ass, but you're good," Dean put the car into drive and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.

**Farmhouse...**

Dean parked the Impala in front of the abandoned house. They got out, seeing Gordon's car parked off to the side and a trick sitting with the bed half-full of boxes. They entered the house and found Gordon sitting on the dining table, and a female vampire tied to a chair, and covered in blood. Gordon noticed them, "Hey, come on in."

"Hey, Gordon. What's going on?" Dean asked, a little disturbed.

"Just poisoning Lenore here with some dead man's blood. She's going to tell us where all her little friends are, aren't you? Want to help?" he asked casually, twirling the blood stained knife in his hands.

"Look, man..."

"Grab a knife. I was just about to start in on the fingers," he dragged his knife across Lenore's arm. Lenore gasped in pain, her eyes fluttering.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, let's all just chill out, huh?" Dean held his hands up, gesturing for Gordon to calm down.

"I'm completely chill."

"Gordon, put the knife down," Grace ordered. "Okay? No one else has to get hurt."

"Step away from her, all right?" Sam asked, steaming.

"Sounds like it's Sam here needs to chill," Gordon pointed out.

"You're right. I'm wasting my time here. This bitch will never talk. Might as well put her out of her misery," he pulled out a bigger knife. "I just sharpened it, so it's completely humane."

"Gordon, I'm letting her go," Sam stepped in to block him.

"You're not doing a damn thing," Gordon held the knife point to Sam's chest.

"Hey, hey, hey, Gordon, let's talk about this, okay? Just...calm down," Grace spoke gently.

"What's there to talk about?" Gordon stared at Sam. "It's like I told Dean. No shades of gray."

"Yeah. I hear ya. And I know how you feel," Dean stared him, circling the table.

"Do you?"

"That vampire that killed your sister deserved to die, but this one..."

Gordon chuckled, "Killed my sister? That filthy fang didn't kill my sister. It turned her. It made her one of them. So I hunted her down, and I killed her myself."

"You did what?" Grace frowned, her eyes wide in disbelief.

He dropped his arm, "It wasn't my sister anymore, it wasn't human. I didn't blink. And neither would you."

"So you knew all along, then? You knew about the vampires, you knew they weren't killing anyone. You knew about the cattle. And you just didn't care."

"Care about what? A nest of vampires suddenly acting nice? Taking a little time out from sucking innocent people? And we're supposed to buy that? Trust me. Doesn't change what they are. And I can prove it."

He grabbed Sam's arm and sliced downwards, drawing blood. Grace and Dean immediately drew their guns, aiming at Gordon as he held his knife to Sam's throat and dragged his arm up above Lenore's face. Dean cocked his gun, "Let him go. Now!"

"Relax. If I wanted to kill him he'd already be on the floor. Just making a little point," he squeezed Sam's arm. Blood dripped from the wound onto Lenore's face. She hissed, her fangs descending. Grace cocked her gun, "Hey!"

"You think she's so different? Still want to save her? Look at her. They're all the same. Evil, bloodthirsty," he glared at her in disgust. Lenore retracted her fangs, looking away, "No. No!"

"You hear her, Gordon?" Sam pushed Gordon away from him.

"No! No!" Lenore groaned in pain.

"We're done here," Grace lowered gun a bit. "Sam, get her out of here."

"Yeah," he untied Lenore and scooped her up into his arms. Gordon took a step forward and Sam backed away. Grace re-aimed her gun as Gordon held his hands up defensively while Dean shouted, "Uh-uh. Uh-uh! Gordon. I think you and I've got some things to talk about."

"Get out of my way."

"Sorry."

"You're not serious," Gordon narrowed his eyes.

"I'm having a hard time believing it too, but I know what I saw. If you want those vampires, you've gotta go through us."

"Fine," Gordon jammed his knife into the table. Dean smirked and glanced at Grace, "Go."

"What? No, Dean."

"I said go. Help Sam."

Grace stared at him for a moment then at Gordon before lowering gun and backing up to the door. When she got outside, she found Sam loading up Lenore in the truck with some other injured vampires. She was about to go help when she heard a crash from inside. She debated for a moment then cursed herself as she ran back inside. She got to the front door as Gordon kicked Dean onto a coffee table, destroying it. Dean groaned in pain and Grace looked up at Gordon. She reached for her gun but he was too fast. Gordon came up and grabbed her back the neck, pinning her up on the wall and grabbing her gun and tossing it aside. Grace choked, his grip tight on her neck, "Son of a bitch."

"You know, I actually liked you. Thought you were really cute. Pretty. It's a shame you're riding around with these two clowns. You should stick with me. I could teach you a thing or two."

"Sorry, she's already taken," Dean broke the coffee table leg on Gordon's head. Gordon's head bobbed as he dropped Grace and staggered back, turning around. Dean grabbed him and slammed him into the entertainment center, hitting him in the face with his elbow, knocking him out. Dean wrapped his arm around Gordon's neck, holding steady. Grace got up and rubbed her neck, "Dean...there's...still rope by the...yeah."

Dean nodded and walked to the dining room, banging Gordon's head on the door frame. Gordon groaned and Dean sighed halfheartedly, "Oh, I'm sorry."

Dean pushed him into the chair and Grace helped him tie Gordon up, wrapping the rope twice around his chest to the chair, "You know, I might be like you, and I might not. But you're the one tied up right now"

**September 2, 2006, next morning at the farmhouse...**

Grace waited by the door as Sam pulled up in the truck, the bed empty. He killed the engine and got out, "Did I miss anything?"

"Nah, not much," she shook her head and Sam followed her inside. Dean paced around Gordon in the dining room, the sun shining through the windows. He noticed them and walked up to Sam, "Lenore get out okay?"

"Yeah. All of them did."

"Then I guess our work here is done," Dean turned to Gordon who sat there glaring and unblinking. "How you doin', Gordy? Gotta tinkle yet? All right. Well, get comfy. We'll call someone in two or three days, have them come out, untie you."

"Ready to go, Dean?"

"Not yet," he jammed Gordon's knife into the table then walked over and smiled. "I guess this is goodbye. Well, it's been real."

He punched upwards, knocking Gordon onto the floor, "Okay. I'm good now. We can go."

The left the farmhouse, Grace leading. She stopped halfway to the Impala, seeing Sam and Dean wincing at the injuries. Dean stopped and started bouncing like a boxer, "Sam? Clock me one."

"What?" Sam frowned.

"Come on. I won't even hit you back. Let's go," Dean buffed himself up.

"No."

"Let's go, you can get a freebie. Hit me, come on."

Sam chuckled and shook his head, "You look like you just went twelve rounds with a block of cement, Dean. I'll take a raincheck."

"I'll hit him," Grace offered, raising her fist.

Dean flinched, "No, thanks. You don't punch, you kick. Hard."

"Oh, don't be such a girl."

"Leave him alone, Grace," Sam started walking. "Let's just go."

"I wish we never took this job, just... jacked everything up," Dean grumbled as he walked to the driver's side door.

"What do you mean?" Sam hesitated by the car door.

"Think about all the hunts we went on, our whole lives."

"Okay."

"What if we killed things that didn't deserve killing? You know? I mean, the way Dad raised us..."

Grace fidgeted, "Dean, after what happened to Mary, Dad did the best he could."

"I know he did. But the man wasn't perfect. And the way he raised us, to hate those things; and man, I hate 'em. I do. When I killed that vampire at the mill I didn't even think about it; hell, I even enjoyed it."

"You didn't kill Lenore," Sam pointed out.

"No, but every instinct told me to. I was gonna kill her. I was gonna kill 'em all."

"Yeah, Dean, but you didn't. And that's what matters," Grace emphasized.

"Yeah. Well, 'cause you're a pain in my ass. Both of you."

"Guess we might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass, then, huh?" Sam glanced at Grace.

"Thanks," he nodded, sincerely.

Sam exchanged glances with Grace, "Don't mention it."

* * *

><p><strong>end of chapter 7!<strong>

**dont forget to review!  
><strong>


	8. Zombieland

**chapter 8!**

**disclaimer: i do not own Supernatural**

**rated M for gore and lanugage**

**enjoy and R&R**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Recap of last chapter...<em>**

_"Guess we might have to stick around to be a pain in the ass, then, huh?" Sam glanced at Grace._

_"Thanks," he nodded, sincerely._

_Sam exchanged glances with Grace, "Don't mention it."_

**September 4, 2006, on the road...**

Dean drove the Impala in a glum mood. Sam ignored him as Max chilled out in the backseat, writing in a notebook. The boys had taken her on Grace's insistence, seeing it fit for Max to see her grandmother's grave. Dean whined for the hundredth time, "Come on, Sam, I'm begging you. This is stupid."

"Why?" Sam asked as Max pulled out a sheet of paper and made a fourteenth tally mark under "Dean-Dad whining".

"Going to visit Mom's grave? She doesn't even have a grave, there was no body left after the fire."

"She has a headstone."

"Yeah, put up by her uncle, a man we've never even met. So you want to go pay your respects to a slab of granite put up by a stranger?"

"Dean, that's not the point."

"Well then, enlighten me, Sam."

"It's not about a body, or, or a casket. It's about her memory, okay?"

"Hmmm."

"And after Dad it just... just feels like the right thing to do. Besides, Max should seeing something of Mom."

"It's irrational is what it is," Dean mumbled.

"Yes because I'm totally not here and can't hear you two," Max stated annoyingly.

Sam ignored her, "Look, man. No one asked you to come."

"Why don't we swing by the roadhouse instead? Drop Max off back at Bobby's. I mean, we haven't heard anything about the demon lately, we should be hunting that son of a bitch down."

"That's a good idea, you should. Just drop me and Max off, we'll hitch a ride, and meet you there tomorrow."

"Like hell you are," Dean stared accusingly at him. "Besides. To be... stuck with those people, making awkward small talk until you show up? No thanks."

**Greenville, Illinois, Greenville Cemetery...**

Sam dug in front of Mary Winchester's headstone with his pocket knife. Max stood next to him, her hands in her pockets. She wore a pink t-shirt with a striped black and white sweater under a denim jacket and a matching jean skirt, and black Vans. Her hair was pinned back out of her face. Sam pulled out dog tags, "I think, um, I think Dad would have wanted you to have these."

He buried them, "I love you, Mom."

Max reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder; Sam glanced back at her and smiled halfheartedly, patting her hand. She looked around and saw Dean standing in a middle of dead grass with a man in a suit, "Hey, what's Dad doing?"

Sam followed her gaze, "I don't know."

"Let's go see what's up."

"You go ahead. I'm...I'm gonna stay here a second longer," he glanced back at the headstone. Max squeezed his shoulder and walked away, letting her hand drop. The man in the suit handed Dean a card and walked away. Max caught Dean's attention, "What was that about?"

"Oh, see this?" he gestured to the circle of dead plants. "Perfect circle. Think that's weird? This is the grave of Angela Mason. She was a student at the local college; funeral was three days ago."

"And...what? Spirit? Poltergeist?"

"Well, I'm not sure thats what we need to find out. Its never day you find something like this."

"Maybe the groundskeeper went a little agro with the pesticide," Sam appeared behind Max.

"No, I asked him," Dean insisted. "I asked him. No pesticide, no chemicals. Nobody can explain it."

"Okay, so what are you thinking?"

"Unholy ground, maybe?"

"Un-"

"What? If something evil happened there, it could easily poison the ground. Remember the, the farm outside of Cedar Rapids?" Dean started walking to the car.

"What happened in Cedar Rapids?" Max asked, following.

"Well-"

"Sam, focus! This could be the sign of a demonic presence. Or the, the Angela girl's spirit, if it's powerful enough," Dean stated enthusiastically, but Sam just nodded. "Well, don't get too excited, you might pull something."

"It's just... stumbling onto a hunt? Here, of all places? Not to mention, Max."

"So?"

Sam gave him a look, "Are you sure this is about a hunt, and not about something else?"

"What else would it be about?"

"You know, just forget it," Sam waved his hand, circling the car.

"You believe what you want, Sam, but I let you drag my ass out here, the least we could do is check this out," Dean got in, along with Max in the back.

"Yeah. Fine," Sam agreed, slamming the car door.

"Girl's dad works in town, he's a professor at the school. Max, we'll drop you off at the motel first."

"What? Dad, I could help. I could slip in with the students, look around, see what I can find."

"It's a college, not a preschool."

"So?"

"So? Max, you're 10 and eight inches under five-foot. You really think someone's not going to notice?" he shook his head at the idea. "You're going to the motel. That's it."

Max threw her hands up in the air, "Really? Come on, you drag me all the way out here to see a headstone and when a case comes up, you dump me at a damn motel...?"

"Hey!" Dean turned in his seat. "Watch your mouth. We're taking you to the motel, okay? It's either that or daycare, your choice!"

Max folded her arms, "Whatever."

**Motel, that night...**

Max sat on the bed that Dean had claimed. She searched through Sam's computer, checking out all his saved files on monsters and demons and everything else. She heard the door unlock and she quickly closed the laptop, tossing it onto Sam's bed and grabbing John's journal as Dean opened the door, "I'm telling you, there's something going on here, we just haven't found it yet."

"Dean, so far you've got a patch of dead grass and nothing."

"Well, something turned that grave into unholy ground."

"There's no reason for it to be unholy ground. Angela Mason was a nice girl who died in a car crash, that's not exactly vengeful spirit material. You heard her father," Sam tossed his jacket onto the bed and sat at the small table.

"Yeah, well, maybe Daddy doesn't know everything there is to know about his little angel, huh?" Dean suggested, sitting down next to Max. "Hey, what've you been doing?"

"Just reading," Max held the journal up. "Um, about this thing on Mer-"

"You know what?"Sam interrupted. "We never should have bothered that poor man. We shouldn't even be here anymore."

Dean rolled his eyes, "So what, Sam? We just bail? Without even figuring out what's going on?"

"I think I know what's going on here. It's the only reason I went along with you this far."

"What are you talking about?"

"This is about Mom's grave."

Dean scoffed, "That's got nothing to do with it. Max, what were you trying to say?"

"You wouldn't step within a hundred yards of it," Sam got in his face, forcing Dean to look at him. "Look. Maybe you're imagining a hunt where there isn't one so you don't have to think about Mom. Or Dad"

Dean stood up, glaring at Sam right in the eye. Sam shook his head, "You wanna take another swing? Go ahead, if it'll make you feel better."

"I don't need this crap," he grabbed his keys and started towards the door.

"Dad, where are you going?"

"I'm going to go get a drink," he replied the looked pointedly at Sam. "Alone."

He slammed the door behind him. Max turned to Sam, "Thanks a lot. This is your fault, you know?"

"How is this my fault?" he asked defensively.

"Look, I've only know ya'll for a month, but I can already tell...Dad's dealing in his own way. He's just not the type to cry and hug about how sad he feels. Not everyone works the way you work," she turned back to the journal.

Sam placed his hands on his hips, "You've been with us a month and you think you know all there is to know about us?"

"Uh, yeah."

Sam gave her a look. Max sighed and sat up, "You wanna know what I know? How about...Dad likes to stuff his face with any and everything that tastes good. He's a damn good mechanic. His favorite songs are 'Ramble On' and 'Traveling Riverside Blues' He loves AC/DC as well as taking weird pictures of you while you're asleep."

"Wait, what?"

"I know you were a Mathlete. You like all the modern music and you've basically got photographic memory based on all the books you read and possible OCD."

"Okay, that doesn't prove anything-"

"You know what else I know? Dad likes watching old cartoons on weekend mornings if he can. He can handle spicy foods. He loves apple pie. You know, he...he would give me these smiles of pride when I managed to fix parts of the Impala without his help. Sometimes, when he felt like he had done what he could on the car each day, he would...look at me and smile with these-these distant eyes and he'd rub his greasy hands on my head just to mess with me. Several times, we would take a break and he would tell me stories of when you were kids. He thinks the world of you, you know that? He really does. Despite being a pain in the ass. But, um...I would-I would give anything to have grown up with you guys."

Sam furred his brows, glancing down, "Max...living a Hunter's life is not exactly desirable."

"That's not the point. Spending that time with you, Dad, Grace, and Bobby...I wish I hadn't missed 10 years of that. I wish I had met John Winchester. I would've called him 'Grandpa John'. I'll never have a normal life but, if anything, I wish to have a family, and I want to be part of yours."

"You are. Max, you...just are. You're a Winchester and you belong with us."

Max sniffled, trying to hold back the crying feeling, "Thanks."

"You know," Sam sat down on his bed. "I'm just impressed that you know big words and can talk so adult-like."

"Just because I'm 10 doesn't mean I'm stupid."

"I never said you were," he rubbed his hands together. "I know Dean's proud of you. He may not always show it, but he is. Trust me."

She nodded, taking a deep breath. Sam frowned, "What did you mean Dean liked to take weird pictures of me while I'm asleep?"

"What?"

"I said-"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Max-"

"It's kinda late don't you think?"

"Max."

"I think I'm gonna go to bed. Night!" she rolled over on the bed, turning her back to him.

"Max!"

"What?"

"You're gonna sleep with your clothes on?"

"Oh, right," she sat up then stared at him. "You perv."

"What? That's not what I meant."

"Relax," she snickered, standing up. "Dad was right. You're easy to freak out."

"Ha ha. Very funny!" he glared at her as she grabbed her bag and walked into the bathroom.

**September 5, 2006, motel, that morning...**

Max finished showering and changed into jeans, her Vans, a graphic magenta shirt. She came out, rubbing her wet hair with her towel as Dean stood next to Sam, "Awkward."

"What's awkward?" she asked, ruffling her hair.

"Huh? Uh-wha-um-" he and Sam exchanged glances. "Nothing. Just...um..."

"Where in the hell were you?" Sam quickly changed the subject.

"Working my imaginary case," Dean frowned at him, sneaking a glance at Max who frowned in confusion.

"Yeah? And?"

"Well, you were right, I didn't find much."

Sam nodded, feeling he was right. Then Dean said, "Yeah. Except Angela's boyfriend died last night. Slit his own throat. But, you know, that's normal. Uh, let's see, what else. Oh, he was seeing Angela everywhere before he died. But you know, I'm sure that's just me transferring my own feelings."

"Okay, I get it. I'm sorry, maybe there is something going on here."

"Maybe? Sam, I know how to do my job, despite what you might think."

"Hey, can we all just calm down? Please?" Max pleaded, walking over to the mirror to brush the tangles out of her hair. Dean dropped his jacket on the TV, rocking a pop-up brochure on top of it. It caught Max's attention and she grabbed for it, "What's 'XXX'?"

Dean lashed out, clumsily grabbing it and tossing it to Sam who threw it behind his back, "Nothing. It's, uh, grown up stuff."

Max gave him a look, but changed the subject, "Why don't you check out that guy's apartment? Work your imaginary case?"

"I just came from there," he gave a look back, mocking her then walking over to the small couch by the window. "Pile of dead plants, just like the cemetery. Hell, dead goldfish too."

"So, unholy ground?" Sam guessed.

"Maybe. I'm still not getting that powerful angry spirit vibe from Angela. I have been reading this, though," he pulled out a small pink book.

"You stole the girl's diary?" Sam gasped in disbelief.

Max's jaw dropped, "Seriously?"

She took the book and started skimming through it as Dean continued, "Yeah, seriously. And if anything the girl's a little too nice."

"So what do you want to do?" Sam asked, standing up.

"Keep digging, talk to more of her friends."

"You get any names?"

"Are you kidding me? I have her bestest friend in the whole wide world," he smirked as if it was obvious.

**Outside Neil's house...  
><strong>

Max drummed out of rhythm to the music in her head as she waited in the car. She pulled her feet off the driver's seat headrest as Sam and Dean walked over, blabbing to each other. Sam got in first, "How do we do this?"

"Burn the bones."

"Burn the bones? Are you high?" Sam laughed in disbelief. "Angela died last week!"

"So?"

"So, there's not gonna be bones. There's gonna be a ripe, rotting body in the coffin."

"Since when are you afraid to get dirty. Huh?" Dean asked, starting up the car.

"Make sure you bag some salt. Or better yet, I could come with you," Max suggested.

"Yeah, right," Dean scoffed.

"Hey, you need someone to hold the flashlight while you two dig."

"What makes you think we won't make you dig?" Sam glanced back at her.

"Hey, I'm 10 and eight inches under five-foot. I won't be able to pull myself out. My little girl body can only handle so much labor."

Dean turned around to stare at her, "Really?"

"Really."

He rolled his eyes, muttering to himself, "I don't know where she gets that."

**Graveyard, Angela Mason's grave, that night...**

Max glanced around, out of the way, as Sam and Dean shoveled the dirt, creating a somewhat good rectangular hole. They reached the coffin and Dean turned to a panting Sam, "Ladies first."

Sam glared at him then handed Max his flashlight, "Hold that."

She pointed it as Sam reached down and lifted the top of the coffin, jumping back in instinct. Dean and Max pointed the lights, expecting to see a fresh, rotting body but instead, a empty casket. Sam caught his breath, "They buried the body four days ago."

Max moved the light along the casket when something caught her eye, "Hey, look. There's something written on there."

Dean leaned in, "No, they're carved in.

"What is that?" Sam squinted his eyes.

Dean's eyes went wide in realization, "I've seen these kind of symbols before."

"Where?" Max asked.

Dean closed the casket, "The father. He's a professor of Ancient Greek. Those, symbols. Sam, they look just like the ones in his office."

"Dean, I don't know..."

"Well," Max squatted down. "It fits. The man loved his daughter, right? It wouldn't be unusual for him to do that."

"Okay, come on," Dean nudged Sam. "Let's cover this back up before someone sees."

Sam groaned, still covered in sweat. As they climbed out, Max stared at the casket in thought, "Those symbols. I've...I read about them."

"What?" Dean asked, stopping mid-shovel.

"Those symbols," she grabbed her bag and pulled out a spiral notebook. "I've seen them before. They're part of an ancient Greek ritual to raise the dead."

"Wait, so...these symbols are meant to raise the dead?" Sam exchanged glances with Dean. "Angela is a..."

"Zombie," Max ripped a piece of paper out and showed them the symbols she drew, similar to the ones in Angela's casket. "Angela Mason is a zombie."

"Well, that explains all the dead plants," Dean grabbed the paper and looked it over.

"Wait, how do you even know about zombies?" Sam asked, baffled.

"Well, while you went to the Rocky Mountains, Bobby had me start my 'home schooling'," she made a quotation gesture with her hands. "He's been having me read his books. Said I had to make myself useful. One of the first books I picked up was about zombies, and all the different myths on them."

"Huh," Sam bit the corner of his lip, impressed.

Dean smiled, "That's my girl."

**September 6, 2006, motel, next morning...**

Max flipped through a book as Sam skimmed through John's journal. Dean paced the whole room, "We can't just waste it with a head shot?"

"Dude. You've been watching way too many Romero flicks," Sam shook his head.

"You're telling me there's no lore on how to smoke 'em."

"No, Dad, there's just too much. I mean, there's a hundred different legends on the walking dead, but they all have different methods for killing them," she flipped through the book as Dean sat down. "Some say setting them on fire, uh, one said, where is it? Right here. Feeding their hearts to wild dogs."

"That's my personal favorite, by the way," Sam joined Dean at the table, closing John's journal.

"I mean, who knows what's real and what's myth?" Max slammed the book down on the table in front of them.

"Is there anything they all have in common?"

"No. But a few said silver might work," Max leaned on the table.

"Silver's a start."

"Yeah. But now how are we going to find Angela?" Sam pointed out.

"We've got to figure out the person who brought her back."

"Well, if not her Dad then who?"

"It might be that guy Neil," Dean got up to get the pink diary.

"Neil?" Sam exchanged glances with Max.

Yep," he flipped through it.

"How'd you come up with that?"

"Well, you've got your journal, I've got mine," Dean opened a page and cleared his throat. "'Neil's a real shoulder to cry on, he so understands what I'm going through with Matt.' There's more in here where that came from, it's got Unrequited Ducky Love written all over it."

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean he brought her back from the dead."

"Hmm. Did I mention he's Professor Mason's TA? Has access to all the same books," Dean tossed the diary into Sam's lap.

**Outside Neil's house, that night...**

Max waited inside the car as Sam and Dean broke in. She sat in the driver's seat, ready to start the engine if need be. After several minutes, the boys walked back out, locking the door behind them. Max got out and held her hands out, "What happened?"

"Angela wasn't there. We think she escaped," Sam sighed, furring his brows.

"So...what now?"

"We're going back to Angela's house," Dean opened the car door for Max.

"Why?"

"Uh, her roommate Lindsey is a...well, a...," he looked to Sam for help, but he just shrugged his shoulders.

"A whore?"

"Basically, yeah," Dean muttered, pondering of whether or not to call her on that.

"Okay. So, let's go," she spoke before Dean could protest. "Look, I'll stay in the car. Give me a gun, I'll defend myself."

"Uh, I don't think that's such a good idea-"

"Sammy, I know how to use a gun. I shot a demon, remember? I'm 10 not useless."

Dean and Sam exchanged defeated glances. Dean shook his head as he started the engine and took off. After 20 minutes, they made it to Angela's house, hearing a faint scream from inside, but the house was dark. Sam got out first as Dean pulled out two guns, throwing one to Max, "Stay here!"

They ran inside, pushing the door open and firing shots. Max glanced around, but none of the other houses stirred. Suddenly, a pale girl in a white dress ran out of an open window. Max jumped out of the car, the girl was coming up near here. She aimed the gun but then heard, "Max, don't!"

She glanced back at the open window and found Dean coming through. Max glanced back, but found the zombie girl gone. She lowered her gun and tossed it inside the car as Sam and Dean came through the front door. Dean stomped on over to her, "That was stupid. She could've attacked you!"

"I didn't fire the gun, okay?" she opened the door and got in. "You wanna stop her before she kills again?"

"Dean, come on," Sam urged. Dean got in and started the car, zooming off as he stepped on the gas. Max fumbled through Sam's backpack and pulled out John's journal, handing it to him then pulling out her own notebook. Dean continued racing through the empty street as Sam flipped through the pages, "So the silver bullets, they did something, right?"

"Yeah, something, but not enough. What else you got?" Dean glanced in the rearview mirror at Max.

Max loudly flipped through her notes before stopping on a page, "Um, okay, besides silver we have nailing the undead back into their gravebeds. It's mentioned a few times. It's probably where the whole vampire staking lore comes from."

"Their gravebeds?"

"Yeah."

"Are you serious? And how the hell are we going to get Angela back to the cemetery?"

"Well, since Neil is the one who raised her back and kept her hidden, she'll probably go find him to hide with," Max closed her notebook. "You said he was Professor Mason's TA? Then if he's not home, he could be at his office or Mason's office."

"All right, we'll check there first. If she is there, we'll have to say something to lure her to the cemetery," Sam pointed out.

"I'll think of something," Dean stated as he parked the car in the school parking lot.

**Angela's grave...**

They had left Angela's grave unattended and surprisingly, no one had found Angela's disturbed grave. Sam and Dean lighted candles while Max sprinkled some weed root along the grave, making it seem like a ritual. Sam lighted another candle and sighed, "You really think this is going to work?"

"No, not really. But it was the only thing I could come up with," Dean snorted.

They all whipped their heads to the left, hearing the rustling of leaves. Sam got up, pulling out his gun and keeping aim as he followed the noise. Dean ushered Max back, a breeze picking up, blowing out some of the candles. They hid behind a couple gravestones when they heard a gunshot. They waited, hearing heavy footsteps followed my soft quick ones. Sam grunted as he was suddenly tackled by Angela. She straddled his back and started to twist his head. Max got up and fired her gun, ignoring the kick. Angela flew forward off of Sam then rolled, standing up. Max kept firing, Angela kept grunting out loud from the impact then suddenly, fell back into her coffin. Dean sprang out, sliding on the dirt and into the coffin. Angela screamed, "No, wait-"

Dean drove the silver stake into her, silencing her once more. He stood up over her corpse, "What's dead should stay dead."

**September 7, 2006, Graveyard, following morning...**

Sam and Dean patted the dirt, making it flat and presentable. Dean huffed and glanced at the dead tree, seeing Max leaning on it asleep, her mouth hanging open. Dean handed Sam his shovel, "Take this."

Sam took the shovel and Dean got up. He walked over to Max reached his arms around her. She stirred and he whispered, "It's okay. I gotcha."

Max wrapped her arms around him as his picked her up, one arm holding her back and the other under her knees. He stood up, glad that he was so strong and sturdy even after filling up a grave all night. Sam gave a side smile and Dean threw back a "shut up" look. They started walking to the Impala, "You know, that whole fake ritual thing, luring Angela into the cemetery? Pretty sharp."

"Thanks," Dean replied, moving his chin up so Max could rest her head on his chest.

"But did we have to use me as bait?" he whined, rubbing his right wrist.

"I figured you were more her type. You know, she had pretty crappy taste in guys."

"I think she broke my hand," he pouted.

Dean laughed, "You're just too fragile. We'll get it looked at later."

He paused, glancing back at Mary Winchester's headstone. Sam stopped as well, "You want to stay for a while?"

Dean swallowed, glancing down at Max then back at the headstone, "No."

He continued towards the car. Sam tossed the shovels into the trunk then opened the door. Dean carefully got in, setting Max down across the backseat. He grabbed his jacket and bundled it up, making a pillow for her. He closed the door, then got into the driver's seat and Sam followed. After stopping to clean up, they hit the road. Max slept through most of it, but about halfway to Bobby's place, Dean pulled over. Max stirred as Dean killed the engine and got out. Sam got out as well. Max sat up, rubbing her eyes and seeing Dean and Sam sitting on the hood of the car, talking. She poked her head out and was about to say something when she heard Dean talk, "I know you've been thinking it - so have I. Doesn't take a genius to figure it out. Back at the hospital, I made a full recovery. It was a miracle. And five minutes later Dad's dead and the Colt's gone."

"Dean," Sam sighed as Max got out through the open window.

"You can't tell me there's not a connection there. I don't know how the demon was involved; I don't know how the whole thing went down exactly. But Dad's dead because of me. And that much I do know."

"We don't know that. Not for sure."

"Sam," Dean shook his head, crying. "You, Grace, Max, and Dad... you're the most important people in my life. And now... I never should have come back, Sam. It wasn't natural. And now look what's come of it. I was dead. And I should have stayed dead. You wanted to know how I was feeling. Well, that's it. So tell me. What could you possibly say to make that all right?"

Sam shifted his jaw, not knowing what to say. Max circled around, hopping onto the hood in between them. Dean looked away, but Max hooked her arm around his and her other arm around Sam's. She hugged them close, getting them to touch in a way. She stared out at the empty road, saying nothing as she laid her head on Dean's shoulder. Dean wiped his eyes, sniffling. He laid his head on top of Max's, feeling her comfort take hold.

* * *

><p><strong>end of chapter 8!<strong>

**don't forget to review!  
><strong>


	9. Special Children

**chapter 9! **

**disclaimer: i do not own Supernatural or the song "Do You Wanna Touch" by Joan Jett (the sexist rock n' roll song next to "Cherry Pie")  
><strong>

**rated M for language and gore**

**enjoy and R&R**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Recap of last chapter...<em>**

_Sam shifted his jaw, not knowing what to say. Max circled around, hopping onto the hood in between them. Dean looked away, but Max hooked her arm around his and her other arm around Sam's. She hugged them close, getting them to touch in a way. She stared out at the empty road, saying nothing as she laid her head on Dean's shoulder. Dean wiped his eyes, sniffling. He laid his head on top of Max's, feeling her comfort take hold._

**September 25, 2006, highway, night...**

Dean drove the Impala about ten miles over the speed limit. Grace handed Sam some aspirin and a bottle of water as he rubbed his forehead. Dean was on the phone, "I don't care...Max, tell Bobby the truth. I said tell the truth. You want me to give Bobby permission to beat you? Just because I'm one state away doesn't mean I can't still punish you. All right, good, take it like a man. You know what I meant, smartass. Okay, bye."

He snapped the phone closed, huffing. They all rode in silence, the radio announcer babbling away for a while when Dean sighed, "I don't know, man, why don't we just chill out, think about this."

Sam turned off the radio, "What's there to think about?"

"I just don't know if going to the Roadhouse is the smartest idea."

"Dean, it's another premonition. I know it. This is gonna happen, and Ash can tell us where."

"Sam, Dean's got a point. The Roadhouse? You seem a little too eager about this," Grace added.

"It could have some connection with the demon. My visions always do," he insisted.

"That's my point," Dean talked over him. "There's gonna be hunters there, I don't know if, if, if going in and announcing that you're some supernatural freak with a, a demonic connection is the best thing, okay?"

"So I'm a freak now?"

"Sam..."

"He's right, Grace," Dean slapped Sam's thigh, smirking. "You've always been a freak."

**Roadhouse, Nebraska, same night...**

Dean parked the Impala in front of the Roadhouse. He killed the engine and the three of them walked in, passing two Hunters cleaning their weapons. Jo stopped in the middle of the room, smiling at Dean, "Just can't stay away, huh?"

"Yeah, looks like. How you doin', Jo?"

"Where's Ash?" Sam asked before Dean could respond, pushing past Grace.

"In his back room."

"Great," he walked past her. Grace and Dean exchanged glances and she took off after him. Sam found the back room with a sign that read **Dr. Badass is: In. **He started knocking as Grace appeared, "Ash? Hey, Ash?"

"Hey, Dr. Badass?" Dean appeared and started banging with the side of his fist. The door unlocked and Ash opened it, revealing his naked body. Dean and Sam looked away as Grace looked down, covering the image of Ash's manhood with her hand. Ash leaned his face on the edge of the door, "Sam? Dean? Oh, hey, there Grace."

"Hi, Ash," Grace kept her vision down.

"You're looking purtty as usual," he opened the door slightly, strutting his bare hip out.

"Thanks. I guess."

"Hey Ash. Um. We need your help," Sam smiled politely, looking at Ash's face.

"Well, hell then. Guess I need my pants. Sorry, Grace...maybe next time you'd get more than just a look," he closed the door. Dean gave Grace a "don't you dare" look. Grace rolled her eyes and they walked back to the main room. After several minutes, Ash came back out fully clothed. He brought his homemade laptop, all of them sitting at a table with Sam and Grace. Dean stood behind them as Ash researched the logo Sam drew earlier. He sat back, "Well, I got a match. It's the logo from the Blue Ridge bus lines in Guthrie, Oklahoma."

"Okay. Do me a favor - check Guthrie for any demonic signs, or omens, or anything like that," Sam asked, carefully setting down his right wrist which was covered in a cast.

"You think the demon's there?" Ash searched through his computer program.

"Yeah, maybe."

"Why would you think that?"

"Just check it, all right?" Dean ordered and Ash gave him a look. He turned back to his laptop then hummed, "No, sir, nothing. No demon."

"All right, try something else for me," Sam thought carefully on his words. "Search Guthrie for a house fire. It would be 1983, fire's origin would be a baby's nursery, night of the kid's six month birthday."

Ash stopped and frowned at him while Dean and Grace checked for eaves droppers. Ash waved his hands by his ears in disbelief, "Okay, now that is just weird, man. Why the hell would I be looking for that."

"Cause there's a PBR in it for ya," Sam pulled out a beer bottle, his face serious.

Ash considered this, "Give me fifteen minutes."

After half an hour, Ash presented and address and a name. Sam left to get Dean who was talking to Jo. Dean said a quick goodbye and followed Sam to the door. Grace hesitated at the door, noticing Jo's longing look at Dean's back. Jo caught Grace's gaze and narrowed her eyes, smirking. Grace smirked back then left, closing the door behind her.

**Back on the highway...**

Sam and Grace lifted their heads from their notes as Dean began to sing to no music:

"And even as I wander, I'm keeping you in sight  
>You're a candle in the window on a cold dark winter night<br>And I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might..."

"You're kidding, right? Dean, please stop, my ears are bleeding," Grace begged, her laptop sliding in her lap.

Dean blinked, uncomfortable, "I heard the song somewhere, I can't get it out of my head. Whaddya got, Sam?"

Sam looked down at the papers, "Andrew Gallagher. Born in eighty three, like me. Lost his mother in a nursery fire exactly six months later, also like me."

"You think the demon killed his mom?"

"Sure looks like it."

"How did you even know to look for this guy?" Grace asked, a bit baffled.

"Every premonition I've had, if they're not about the demon they're about the other kids the demon visited," he turned to Dean. "Like Max Miller, remember him?"

"Yeah, but Max Miller was a pasty little psycho."

"Who's Max Miller?" Grace asked, looking back and forth between them.

"He was a kid like me, and he had issues, mother died on his six month birthday-look, the point is he was killing people. And I was having the same type of visions about him. And now it could be happening all over again with this Gallagher guy."

"How do we find him?"

"Don't know. No current address, no current employment. He still owes money on all his bills - phone, credit, utilities..."

"Collection agency flags?" Grace raised a brow.

"None in the system."

"They just let him take a walk?" Dean frowned, glancing at him.

"Seems like it. There's a work address from his last W-2, about a year ago. Let's start there."

**September 26, 2006, Guthrie, Oklahoma, Orchard street...**

The three of them sat in the car, parked across the intersection where Andy Gallagher's van with a large painting of a barbarian queen riding a polar boar was parked. Dean awed at the van, "I'm sorry, I'm starting to like this dude. That van is sweet."

"Yeah, sweet," Grace rolled her eyes then noticed Sam. "What's wrong, Sam?"

"Nothing."

Dean glanced over at him, "Dude, you look like you're sucking on a lemon, what's going on?"

Sam shook his head, "This Andrew Gallagher, he's the second guy like this we've found. Demon came to them when they were kids, now they're killing people."

"We don't know what Andrew Gallagher is, all right? He could be innocent," Grace suggested.

"My visions haven't been wrong yet."

"What's your point, Sam?" Dean frowned, sighing.

"My point is, I'm one of them."

"No, you're not."

"Dean, the demon said he had plans for me and children like me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, maybe this is his plan, maybe we're all a bunch of psychic freaks, maybe we're all supposed to be-"

"What, killers?" Grace interrupted.

"Yeah."

"So the demon wants you out there killing with your minds, is that it? Come on, give me a break," she raised her voice. "You're not a murderer, Sam! You don't have it in your bones."

"No?" he turned in his seat to look at her. "Last I checked, I kill all kinds of things."

"Those things were asking for it. There's a difference," Dean pointed out then turned to lean his arm on the window. Grace sat back as Sam noticed something, "Got him."

Grace and Dean followed his gaze to a black-haired man in pajamas and a bathrobe, Andy, leaving an apartment complex. Andy looked up, waving at a lingerie-clad blond woman. He kept on, stopping to talk to a man with a coffee cup. The man nodded his head and handed Andy his coffee then walked on. Andy stopped, shaking hands with an older black man in a suit. Sam tensed, "That's him. That older guy, that's him, that's the shooter."

"All right, you keep on him, we'll stick with Andy. Go," Dean ordered and Sam got out, following the elder man. Andy got in his large van and took off. Dean started the engine as Grace climbed up to the front and took off inconspicuously after Andy. After a few minutes of following the Andy, the van came to a halt in the middle of a curve in the road. Dean parked the car and glanced at Grace. She mimicked his frown and handed him a gun, slipping her own into her jacket as he did the same. Andy got out, still in his pajamas and looking like he hadn't shaven. He walked up to Dean's side and bent down, "Hey."

"Hey," Dean nodded, smiling back.

"This is a cheery ride," Andy admired the car.

"Yeah, thanks," Dean took his hand off his gun, but Grace kept her hand on hers.

"Man, the '67? Impala's best year if you ask me. This is a serious classic."

"Yeah. You know, I just rebuilt her, too," Dean's smile grew bigger.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, can't let a car like this one go."

"Damn straight," Andy nudged Dean's shoulder. "Hey. Can I have it?"

"Sure, man," Dean nodded, getting out as Grace's jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Sweet."

"What? Dean!" Grace started to get out.

"Hey, you," Andy stopped her. "You know...you're really, really pretty. I mean, really pretty."

Grace hesitated, her hand still holding the door open, "Uh, thank you."

"Hey, dude, is this your girlfriend?" Andy glanced at Dean.

"No, my sister."

"Wow, she's hot," he turned back to Grace, getting in. "Why'd don't you ride with me for a while?"

"Sure," she closed the door, settling back inside. Andy closed the driver's side door, "Hey, thanks again, man."

"No problem," Dean stepped back as Andy drove away with Grace.

Grace blinked, confused as Andy turned the corner. Andy glanced at her, "Hey, what's your name?"

"Grace Winchester," Grace smiled, feeling a weird sensation.

"Well, Grace," he mused. "I'm Andy. So, are you-are you any good in bed?"

"I don't know. I'm a...I'm a virgin," Grace frowned, wondering why she's spilling this out.

Andy's eyebrows went up, "Really? A girl like you, a virgin? Wow. So, that guy back there is your brother?"

"Yes, we travel together."

"Really? What brought you to Guthrie?"

"You," Grace pulled her lips into a thin line, trying to stop herself from talking. Andy stepped on the brake, "What? Are you...are you stalking me?"

"No."

"Are you debt collectors?"

"No."

"What are you?"

"A Hunter."

"Great!" Andy threw his hands in the air. "Bounty hunters great."

Grace glanced away, uncomfortable, "Can I take my brother's car back to him? Like, now?"

"No," he frowned then got an idea. "You know, you look like a singer."

"I don't sing-"

"No, no, no. You're really gorgeous," he emphasized, regretting what he was about to say. "Let's stop by a bar. I'm sure there are plenty of admirers that will love to hear you sing."

**At a local bar...**

Dean and Sam walked in a hurry. They burst through the door, looking around. Dean's eyes were wide with worry, "Are you sure, Sam?"

"Yeah, that guy said he saw Grace go in here with Andy," Sam noticed the bartender and walked over. "Hey, have you seen a girl? Uh, about five-one, black hair, tan, looks about 17?"

The scruffy bartender sighed, annoyed, "Yeah, look, you need to buy a drink if you wanna watch her."

"What?" Dean frowned.

"The girl's a damn good singer, but I'm only letting her stay if she brings in customers."

"Uh, okay, but where is she?" Dean demanded. The bartender pointed to across the room, to where a small stage with a karaoke machine was set up, and it was surrounded by lots of men with beers. Grace stood in the middle of it, her hair loose and a microphone in her hand. The boys froze, hearing rock and roll music starting to play. Grace grabbed a chair, leaning on the back rest as she sang:

"We've been here too long  
>Trying' to get along<br>Pretending' that you're oh so shy"

Dean and Sam exchanged confused glances as Grace stepped off the stage, bring her chair with her:

"I'm a natural ma'am  
>Doing' all I can<br>My temperature is running' high"

Grace sat down on the chair, leaning her upper body down horizontally:

"Cry at night  
>No one in sight<br>An' we got so much to share  
>Talking's fine<br>If you got the time  
>But I ain't got the time to spare<br>Yeah"

She sat up, shaking her hair around herself:

"Do you wanna touch?  
>Do you wanna touch?<br>Do you wanna touch me there, where?  
>Do you wanna touch?<br>Do you wanna touch?  
>Do you wanna touch me there, where?<br>There, yeah!"

The men in the bar sang as she danced around the tables:

"Yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah"

Grace hopped on a table, crossing her legs seductively:

"Every girl an' boy  
>Needs a little joy<br>All you do is sit an' stare  
>Begging' on my knees<br>Baby, won't you please  
>Run your fingers through my hair"<p>

She got down and leaned her back on a random man's chest:

"My, my, my  
>Whiskey and rye<br>Don't it make you feel so fine  
>Right or wrong<br>Don't it turn you on  
>Can't you see we're wasting' time, yeah"<p>

She walked back to the stage, grabbing onto the microphone stand:

"Do you wanna touch?  
>Do you wanna touch?<br>Do you wanna touch me there, where?  
>Do you wanna touch?<br>Do you wanna touch?  
>Do you wanna touch me there, where?<br>There, yeah!  
>Do ya? Do ya?<br>Do ya? Do ya?  
>Do you wanna touch?<br>Do you wanna touch me there?  
>Do you wanna touch?<br>Do you wanna touch me there?  
>My, my, my<br>Do you wanna touch me there?  
>Do you want me?<br>Do you wanna touch me there?  
>My, my, my, my, my<br>You know where  
>Touch me there<br>You know where  
>Touch me there"<p>

The song ended and all the men clapped and howled. Dean stomped over, taking the microphone from Grace then grabbing her by the arm and hauling her off the stage and away from the hungry men. He let her go once they reached Sam, "What the hell are you doing, Grace?"

Grace panted, trying to catch her breath, "Andy, he...dropped me off here, and...he told me to...sing...sing like it was my last day on Earth. I couldn't...I couldn't stop myself. I've been...singing for half an hour...nonstop."

Dean turned to Sam, "See? I told you. It's mind control."

"What?" Grace wheezed, holding her side.

"Okay, Dean, I believe you, okay. Trust me, I'm not too happy about seeing Grace up there," Sam turned to her. "Why did he leave you here?"

"He thinks...Dean and I-" she pointed to him and herself, "-are...bounty hunters."

"Are you serious?" Dean blinked in disbelief.

"Yeah...he, um...stuck around for the first song but...he left after seeing the news about something."

"Great, now we'll never find the car!" Dean shoved Sam a little.

"The Impala?" Grace shook her head. "He didn't take it."

"What? Where is it?" Dean stepped closer to her.

Grace reached inside her shirt, pulling a set of keys out from in between her boobs, "He left the keys with me. Car's around the corner."

Dean snatched the keys and ran outside. Grace and Sam followed him. They turned the corner and found the Impala sitting undisturbed by the side of the road. Dean's shoulders relaxed in relief, "Thank god! Oh. I'm sorry, baby. I'll never leave you again."

"Well, it looks like he can't work his mojo just by twitching his nose, he's gotta use verbal commands," Grace pointed out, finally able to breathe right.

"The doctor had just gotten off his cell phone when he stepped in front of that bus. Andy must have called him or something," Sam guessed, shaking his head.

"I don't know, maybe," Dean mumbled.

"Beg your pardon?" Sam raised a brow.

"I just don't know if he's our guy, Sam."

"Dean, you had O.J. convicted before he got out of his white Bronco and you have doubts about this? Come on, man...he had Grace strutting herself in front of all those pervs."

"He just doesn't seem like the stone-cold killer type, that's all. You know. And O.J. was guilty," he pointed his finger. "Besides, Grace can handle herself."

"Either way, how are we going to track this guy down?" Grace waved off the issue.

Dean thought a moment, "Not a problem."

**Back on Orchard street, Andy's van...**

They approached the back of Andy's van. Dean glanced around, "Not exactly an inconspicuous ride. Let's have a look."

He swiftly opened the door, revealing a made lounge area inside. There was a tiger painted on the side, a disco ball hanging on the roof, lots of books, and a giant bong laying in the middle of a faux fur rug. Dean awed, laughing, "Oh. Oh, come on. This is... this is magnificent, that's what this is. Not exactly a serial killer's lair, though. There's no... clown paintings on the walls, or scissors stuck in victims' photos. I like the tiger."

Sam picked up several books, skimming the titles, "Hegel, Kant, Wittgenstein? That's some pretty heavy reading."

"Yeah, and uh, and Moby Dick's bong," Grace gestured to the large tool.

Later, they sat in the Impala in a parking lot. Sam studied several papers from a file while Grace was on her laptop, tracking any movements of Andy on street and shop cameras. Dean finished his burger then crumpled the foil then placed it back into it's paper bag, "Ugh. You know, one day I'd love to just sit down and eat something I didn't have to microwave at a minimart."

Sam ignored him, "What I don't get is the motive. I mean, the doctor was squeaky clean, why would Andy waste him?"

"If it is Andy," Dean muttered.

"Dude, enough," Sam raised his voice.

"What?"

"The doctor was mind-controlled in front of a bus. Andy just happens to have the power of mind control. You do the math."

"I just don't think the guy's got it in him, that's all."

"Well, how the hell would you know? I mean, why are you bending over backwards defending him?"

"Cause you're not right about this."

"Uh, guys...," Grace leaned back from her laptop.

"About Andy?"Sam continued.

"Guys..."

"Yes."

"Hey, guys-"

"Well, you're wrong!"

"Guys!"

"What?" they glanced back at her.

"HEY!" Andy suddenly appeared on Sam's side, leaning in on the window. "You think I haven't seen you three? Why are you following me?"

Sam shifted, stammering, "Well, we're lawyers. See, a relative of yours has passed aw-"

"Tell the truth!" he barked.

"That's what I'm-"

"We hunt demons," Grace and Dean blurted out.

"What?"

"Dean! Grace!" Sam glanced at them both.

"Demons and spirits," Dean continued.

"Things your worst nightmares wouldn't even touch," Grace overlapped with Dean.

"Sam here, he's our brother."

"Dude, shut up!" Sam ordered.

"I'm trying," Dean muttered.

Grace rubbed her face, unable to stop, "He's psychic. Kind of like you. Well, not really like you, but see, he thinks you're a murderer, and he's afraid that he's going to become one himself, 'cause you're all part of something that's terrible."

"And I hope to hell that he's wrong, but I'm starting to get a little scared that he might be right," Dean laughed nervously.

"Okay, you know what? Just leave me alone," Andy ordered, stepping away.

"Okay," Dean and Grace rubbed their faces. Sam got out of the car, following Andy. Andy noticed him and shouted, "What are you doing? Look, I, I said leave me alone. All right? Get out of here, just start driving and never stop."

"Doesn't seem to work on me, Andy," Sam advanced on him.

"What?"

"You can make people do things, can't you? You can tell them what to think," Sam noticed Dean and Grace and gestured for them to stay back.

"That... that's crazy."

"It all started about a year ago, didn't it? After you turned twenty two. Little stuff at first, and then you got better at controlling it."

"How do you know all this?"

"Because the same thing happened to me, Andy. My mom died in a fire, too. I have abilities too. You see, we're connected, you and me."

"You know what? Just, just, just, just get out of here, all right?" his voice trembling with power.

"Why did you tell the doctor to walk in front of a bus?" Sam stepped forward, getting frustrated.

"What?"

Sam fidgeted, rubbing his forehead, "Why did you kill him?"

"I didn't!"

Sam suddenly went spastic, clutching his head. Dean and Grace ran over, helping Sam sit down. Dean squatted down next to him, and Grace did the same, "Sam? What is it?"

"Look, I didn't do anything to him," Andy insisted, squatting down as well, but several feet away.

"A woman. A woman burning alive."

"What else'd you get?" Dean pressed.

"A gas station, a woman is gonna kill herself."

"What does he mean, going to? What is he, what is-"

"Shut up!" Grace barked at him.

"She gets triggered by a call on her cell."

"When?"

"I don't know," he let Grace and Dean help him up and glared at Andy. "But as long as we keep our eyes on this son of a bitch he can't hurt her."

"I didn't hurt anybody," Andy held his hands up defensively.

"Yeah, not yet."

They turned their heads to the roar of sirens, seeing a fire truck zoom past. Dean and Grace turned Sam who nodded, "Go."

"Watch yourself," Grace patted his shoulder then took off after Dean.

**Gas Station...**

Grace and Dean stood off the side. The firemen blasted the fiery corpse with the water hose while Dean spoke on his cellphone, a finger in his free ear to block the noise, "Hey, it's me. She's dead. Burned up, just like you said. Like minutes before I got here, I mean the smell hasn't even cleared. What's up with your visions, man? This wasn't even a head start. Listen, you were with Andy when this whole thing went down, so it, it can't be him, it's gotta be somebody else doing this. What else is new? Well, I'll dig around here, see what else I can find."

He hung up. Grace spoke as he stuffed his cellphone back into his pocket, "Well, what now?"

"Let's go talk to the cops."

"All right," she followed him.

**Back at the empty alley...**

Dean and Grace pulled up in the Impala where Sam and Andy sat across from each other. Dean got out first, "Victim's name was Holly Becket, forty one, single."

Sam turned to Andy, "Who is she?"

"I've never heard of her," Andy shrugged his shoulders.

"Called Ash on the way over here, he came up with a little something," Grace stated. "Apparently Holly Becket gave birth when she was eighteen years old, back in 1983. Same day you were born, Andy."

"Andy, were you adopted?" Sam furred his brows.

"Well, yeah."

"You were? And you neglected to mention that?" Grace frowned at him, folding her arms.

"Never really came up. I mean, I, I never knew my birth parents, and, and like you said my adopted mom died when I was a baby - do you, do you think this Holly woman could actually be my m-"

"I don't know," Dean interrupted. "We tried to get a copy of the birth records, but they're hard copy only, sealed in the county office."

Andy snorted, "Well, screw that."

**Record's office, that night...**

Dean grabbed a box of records as the elderly guard babbled nervously, "Probably shouldn't have left you kids in here."

"No, it'll all be fine. All right? Just go get a cup of coffee," Andy walked him to the door then said in a dramatic voice: "These aren't the 'droids you're looking for."

"Awesome," Dean grinned, setting the box down in between Grace and Dean.

"I got it," Sam set down the rest of the papers.

"Yeah?" Grace leaned in across the table as Andy come over, sitting beside Sam.

"Yeah. Andy, it's true. Holly Becket was your birth mother."

"Huh," he suddenly went pale. "Does anyone have a Vicodin?"

"Dr. Jennings was her doctor, too, I mean, he oversaw the adoption. You have a solid connection to both of them."

"Yeah, but I didn't kill them," Andy insisted.

"We believe you."

"Yeah," Sam agreed with Dean.

"But uh, who did?" Grace asked.

"I think I got a pretty good guess. Holly Becket gave birth to twins."

"Wha...?"

"Yup. Unless I'm mistaken, your twin could have the same powers as you."

"I'll go print out a picture of Mr. Evil," Grace got up, heading to the computer.

Andy sat back in his chair, holding his hands above his head in shock, "I have an evil twin."

"Holly put you and your brother up for adoption. And you went to the Gallagher family, obviously, and your brother went to the Weems family from upstate," Sam informed, reading off the file.

"Andy, how you doin'? Still with us?" Dean nudged him.

"Um," he lowered his arms. "What was my brother's name?"

"Here," Sam set the file down for Andy to see. "Um, Ansen Weems. He's got a local address."

"He lives here?" Andy stammered.

"Let's get a look at him. Got his picture coming off from the DMV right now," Grace walked over to the printer as it groaned. She pulled some papers out and looked through them, her eyes widening in surprise. Dean walked over and his eyes went wide, "Hate to kick you while you're freaked. Take a look at that."

Andy took the papers from him and looked at the picture, jolting his head up in shook, "Oh, shit."

**Highway, same night...**

Dean drove the Impala about 15 miles above the speed limit. Sam frowned, a little upset, "All right, Andy. Tell us everything you know about this guy."

"Well, I mean, not much. I... Weber shows up one day, eight months ago? Acting like he's my best friend in the world. Kinda weird, like, trying too hard, you know?"

"Must have known you guys were twins," Grace stated, sitting next to Andy. "Why did he change his name? Why not just tell you the truth?"

"No idea."

"Aah!" Sam clutched his head.

"Sam?" Dean glanced at him and Sam started screaming. "Sam? Sam!"

"Sammy! Dean, stop the car!" Grace swatted him. Dean hit the brake and Sam opened the door, leaning out. Dean and Grace both got out and ran to Sam's aide.

**Near the bridge...**

Dean pulled the Impala up at the foot of the bridge. They got out and walked to the trunk. Sam stopped Grace and Dean, "Hey, you both should stay back."

"No argument here. Had my head screwed with enough for one day," Dean agreed. Grace snickered, "Dude, my throat still hurts from earlier. Believe me, I know to stay faaaaaar away."

Sam picked up two handguns, handing one to Grace while Dean grabbed a sniper. Andy slowly staggered over to them, "I'm coming with you."

"Andy, no."

"Because it's Tracy out there, and I'm coming," he insisted. Sam sighed then nodded, closing the trunk. Sam and Andy took off down the bridge to a parked car. Dean and Grace walked through the thin woods. Grace kept on eye out for bystanders and Weber. Dean found a good hiding place, overlooking the bridge. Dean set up the rifle quickly, gazing through the telescope to aim at Weber. Grace crouched beside Dean, keeping a lookout. Dean kept an eye on Weber who spoke to Andy, he cocked the rifle, his finger hesitating on the trigger. Suddenly, Weber turned around, looking straight in Dean's direction. Dean leaned his head back, turning the rifle around and putting it under his chin. Grace gasped, "Dean, what're you-"

_Put the gun to your head..._

Grace blinked, confused. _Put the gun to your head. _She glanced back the bridge and raised her gun to the side of her head. _It's all going to be okay..._

"It's going to be okay," Dean and Grace spoke in unison.

_Good. Now, pull the- _

A gunshot rang out. Grace snapped her eyes closed then open again, realizing she was alive. She glanced at Dean who had lowered his gun, sweat glistening his forehead. Grace reached over and hugged him, "Thank you, God. You're okay."

"Yeah, but how?"

They glanced back at the bridge, seeing Andy standing over Weber's body with a gun in his hands. Dean got up, "Grace, let's go. Call 911 while you're at it."

"Okay," she pulled out her phone, getting up and following him. "Hello? Yes, I need an ambulance. Someone's been shot.."

**September 27, 2006, following morning on the bridge...**

The sheriff blocked the bridge with their cars, making only enough room for paramedics to leave with Weber's body. Andy spoke to the officers while Sam sat against the bridge wall, his shoulder being looked at by a paramedic with Dean and Grace standing near him. Andy walked over, looking glum as the paramedic walked away, "She won't even look at me."

"Yeah, she's pretty shaken up," Sam shrugged, not knowing what to say.

"No, it's, this is different. It's, uh, I never, I never used my mind thing on her before. Before last night. She's scared of me now."

"Hey, Andy, I hate to do this, but um, we have to get out of here. Here," Sam handed him a slip of paper. "I wrote down my cell, all of our numbers, actually. You don't have to be alone in this, all right? If anything comes up, just call, okay?"

He looked at the paper and the Winchesters started walking away, "Wha- what am I supposed to do now?"

"You be good, Andy. Or we'll be back," Grace looked pointedly at him.

They continued walking away, and Sam took a deep breath, "Looks like I was right."

"About what?" Dean asked.

"Andy. He's a killer after all."

"No, he's a hero. He saved his girlfriend's life, he saved our lives," Dean gestured to Grace.

Sam shook his head, "Bottom line, last night, he wasted somebody."

"Yeah, but he's not a foaming-at-the-mouth psycho," Dean insisted. "He was just, he was pushed into that."

"Weber was pushed too, in his own way. Max Miller was pushed. Hell, I was pushed by Jessica's death."

Grace placed her hand on Sam, stopping him, "You know, I'm really getting tired of this. What's your point, Sam?"

"Right circumstances, everyone's capable of murder. Everyone," he leaned in, looking down at her. "You know, maybe that's what the demon's doing. Pushing us. Finding ways to break us-"

"Sam, we don't know what the demon wants, okay? Quit worrying about it," Dean stood behind Grace.

"You know, I heard you before, Dean, when Andy made you and Grace tell the truth. You're both just as scared of this as I am."

"That was mind control!" Grace shouted.

"It's like, that's like being roofied, man, that doesn't count," Dean agreed.

"What?" Sam frowned at them both.

"I'm calling do-over," Dean stated, continuing walking.

"What are you, seven?"

"Doesn't matter," Grace talked over him. "Look, we've just gotta keep doing what we're doing, find that evil son of a bitch and kill it."

"Yeah, I guess."

Grace's phone rang. She reached into her pocket and pulled it out, "Hello? Ellen. What's going on?"

The boys frowned in curiosity as Grace's face fell. She glanced at Dean, "We'll be right there."

**September 28, 2006, Nebraska, Roadhouse Saloon...**

The three of them sat at the bar in the empty saloon. Ellen wiped her hands on a rang and caught her daughter's attention, "Jo?"

"Hmm?" she finished wiping a table.

"Go pull up another case of beer. And a pack of coke."

"Mom..."

"Now. Please."

Jo sighed and walked into the kitchen, the door swinging back and forth. Once she was notably gone, Ellen walked up to the Winchesters at the bar, "So. You uh, you want to tell me about this last hunt of yours?"

"No. Not really. No offense, it's just kind of a family thing," Dena smiled politely.

"Not anymore," she dropped a stack of papers in front of Sam. "I got this stuff from Ash. Andrew Gallagher's house burnt down on his six month birthday, just like your house. You think it was the demon both times, don't you? You think it went after Gallagher's family?"

"Yeah, we think so," Sam replied quietly.

"Sam...," Grace rubbed her eyes.

"Why?"

"None of your business."

Ellen turned to Dean with a hard glare, "You mind your tongue with me, boy. This isn't just your war, this is war. Now, something big and bad's coming and it's coming fast, and their side holds all the cards. Now, at best all we got is us. Together. No secrets or half-truths here."

Sam sighed loudly, "There are people out there, like Andy Gallagher, like me. And um, we all have some kind of ability."

"Ability?"

"Yeah. Psychic ability," Sam explained as Dean rolled his eyes uncomfortably. "Me, I have, um, I have visions. Premonitions. I don't know, it's different for everybody. The demon said he had plans for people like us."

"What kind of plans?"

"We don't really know for sure," Grace replied before Sam could.

Ellen still faced Sam but glanced at Grace, "These people out there, these psychics. Are they dangerous?"

"No. Not all of them," Dean said intently.

"But some are. Some are very dangerous," Sam overlapped him.

"Okay, how many of them are we looking at?"

"We've been able to track a clear pattern so far. They've all had house fires on the night of the kid's six month birthday," Dean replied reluctantly.

"That's not true," Grace stated.

"What?" Dean raised a brow.

"Weber? Or Ansen Weems, or whatever his name is, I looked at his files, and there was no house fire. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Which breaks pattern. So if there's any others like him, there'd be nothing in the system. No way to track 'em all down," Ellen rubbed her forehead.

"And so who knows how many of 'em are really out there?" Dean took a swig of his beer.

Ellen glanced back, noticing Jo just standing there, "Jo honey?"

"Yeah?"

"You'd better break out the whiskey instead."

* * *

><p><strong>end of chapter 9!<strong>

**don't forget to review!  
><strong>


	10. Demon Virus

**chapter 10! wow, i've gotten this far! i'm happy!**

**disclaimer: i do not own Supernatural **

**Rated M for language and gore**

**enjoy and R&R**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Recap of last chapter...<em>**

_Ellen glanced back, noticing Jo just standing there, "Jo honey?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"You'd better break out the whiskey instead."_

**October 17, 2006, Sioux Falls, South Dakota, Bobby's place...**

Grace wiped her wet hands on a cloth then picked up the phone, "Hello?"

"Hey, Grace."

"Oh, hey, Sam, whats up?"

"Oh, uh...nothing much, I got you on speaker. You mind looking something up for us?"

"Yeah, sure. Hold on," she walked over to Bobby's desk and opened her laptop. When she opened up the internet page, she put the phone back to her ear, "Okay, now what?"

"Check the FBI's hit list."

"Why?"

"Just check it, please," Dean's voice whined.

"Fine. You want me to break in or just browse?"

"Browse."

Grace sighed, clicking on the FBI's most wanted, and scrolled down, seeing lots of unfamiliar faces and lots of unpronounceable names when she stopped. "Dean, why is your name and picture on the FBI's most wanted?"

"We got framed for a girl's murder. But due to a ghost, we couldn't prove it wasn't us without sounding crazy," Sam sighed. "What else does it say?"

Grace browsed through the rest of Dean's data, "All right, Dean, you got a warrant in St. Louis. You're officially on the Fed's database."

Dean chuckled, creating static in the line, "Dude, I'm like Dillinger!"

"Dean, it's not funny," Sam scolded. "Makes the job harder, we've gotta be more careful now."

"Well, what do they got on Sam?"

Grace checked the results from the search, "Uh, there's nothing on Sammy."

"No accessory? Nothing?"

Grace checked again, leaning back in the chair, "Nope. Nada."

"I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet...," Sam muttered.

"Sammy, are you jealous?" Grace asked, grinning in disbelief.

"Shut up."

Dean barked in laughter, "Dude, you're totally jealous!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Okay, okay, calm down you two," she shook her head, still grinning. "Hey, uh, I got a e-mail from Ash. Ellen's got a possible case."

"All right, let's hear it," Dean cleared his throat, sounding like a hunger bear.

"Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed. Claims to have seen a black dog."

"Black dog? That's odd," Sam commented.

"Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive," Grace scrolled through the rest of e-mail attachments.

"What's the lore on it?" Sam asked.

"Hold on," Grace placed her hand on the phone. "Max! MAX!"

"Yeah?" Max came stomping down the stairs.

"Do you know anything about Black Dogs?"

"Black dogs? Not really, but I could check the Animal Planet webpage-"

"No. Supernatural-wise."

Max thought for a minute then held out her hand, "Gimme the phone."

"Hey, Dad," Max spoke as Grace walked away to the kitchen.

"Hey, sweetheart, how you doing?"

"Oh, I'm good. Uh, you guys wanted to know about Black Dogs?"

"Yeah, have you read anything about them recently?" Sam asked.

"Well, it's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but... some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But...there is something else," she reached under Bobby's desk and pulled out a big book with lots of bookmarks inside it.

"What?" Dean pressed.

She opened the book and found the page, "Hellhounds."

There was a pause then Sam stammered, "Uh, are you-are you sure? I mean, those demonic pit bulls? Here?"

"It's not uncommon. Most of the southern states-from Georgia to Louisiana-practice Voodoo or Hoodoo. In that part of the country, demon pacts are widely popular. Particularly, crossroads."

"Okay, so you're saying the Hellhounds come after the people who made pacts with demons?" Sam asked, sounding dubious.

"Yup. Find a crossroads. Look for one with gravel-like dirt road. In the dead center, there should be a small bag or tin foil box with ingredients. Black cat bones, graveyard dirt...the works."

"Okay, then what?"

"Well, you can't exactly stop a Hellhound. But they'll only aim for their intended victim, but they're not prone to avoid anyone helping their target. I would say...if you find the crossroad demon, try to negotiate with it. Don't bargain your soul, but...you know."

"Right, thanks Max," Sam huffed.

"No problem, Sammy."

"All right, you go back to your studying," Dean said.

"Okay. Oh, hey, Dad...?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, okay?"

"Okay. You too."

**November 29, 2006, Boise, Idaho, empty road...**

Grace and Max stepped out of the Mustang, facing Dean and Sam who sat atop the hood of the Impala. Max had a backpack and a duffle bag with her, while Grace twirled the keys on her finger. Dean greeted Max and ushered her inside the car then turned to Grace with a sour look, "Did you really have to bring her?"

"Yes for the twentieth time. Dean," Grace shook her head. "Look, Bobby said he picked up a Okami on his way here and he doesn't have any tool to waste it so he's bringing it to the junkyard to finish it off."

"So?"

"So. Okamis have preferences. Some like Alzheimer patients, some like forty year old men, this one happens to like little girls. It's too much of a risk to have Max there in case the thing gets loose. Besides, this is Bobby's idea. I was just gonna take her to a nearby motel, but Bobby said take her to you two."

Sam nodded, taking a deep breath, "Well, we're on our way to Rivergrove. In Oregon."

"Yeah, um, look...Max and I-I taught her a lot of stuff these past two months so she's not entirely dead weight, okay? Trust me, she's seen action so she'd be a lot more help than-"

"Okay, okay, enough about the H.H. Holmes case, okay?" Dean begged.

Grace held her hands up defensively, "Hey, I'm just saying. It could've gone more smoothly had you not brought an amateur."

Dean and Sam exchanged glances and Grace sighed, "All right, watch yourselves, okay? I gotta get back."

"Okay, be careful," Sam nodded.

"Always am," she turned and got back into the car, backing up then turning around, zooming down the road she had just come from. Dean huffed and got inside the Impala, Sam did the same. Dean put the car into drive and pulled out onto the road to Oregon. Sam filled Max in on the reason for such a brash action. Max leaned on the front seat, "So...besides Crater Lake, what else?"

"I saw a dark room, some people, and a guy tied to a chair," Sam sighed.

"And I ventilated him?" Dean glanced at him.

"Yeah. You thought there was something inside him."

"What, a demon? Was he possessed?"

"I don't know," Sam peered out the window.

"Well, aren't all your weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow?" Max said thoughtfully. "Did we try to exorcise it?"

Sam glanced back at her, "No. Nothing, Dean just plugged him, that's it."

"Well, I'm sure I had a good reason."

"I sure hope so," Sam muttered, exhaling.

"What does that mean? I mean, I'm not gonna waste an innocent man," Dean glanced at him, but Sam just raised his eyebrows. "I wouldn't!"

"I never said you would!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Hey, hey," Max held her hands up to silence them. "Look, we don't know what it is. But whatever it is, that guy in the chair's a part of it. So let's find him, and see what's what, okay?"

"Fine," Dean pouted.

"Fine," Sam did the same.

**November 30, 2006, Rivergrove, Oregon...**

Max paced the length of the car as Dean and Sam talked to a man cleaning his guns across the street. She lost interest in watching them and walked down the sidewalk, still staying in sight. She started back to the car when she bumped into a telephone pole. She rubbed her shoulders and instinctively looked up. The words **CROATOAN **was carved into it. Sam and Dean approached and she absently reached out to them, "Hey. Look at this."

"Croatoan?" Dean frowned as Sam's face fell in realization.

"Yeah," Max noticed Dean's blank face. "Roanoke? Lost colony? Ring a bell?"

He shook his head and Sam turned to him, "Dean, did you pay any attention in history class?"

"Yeah! Shots heard 'round the world, How bills becomes a laws..."

"That's not school, that's Schoolhouse Rock."

"Whatever."

"Look, Roanoke was one of the first English colonies in America, late 1500s?" Max looked at him questioningly.

"Oh yeah, yeah, I do remember that. The only thing they left behind was a single word carved in a tree," Dean frowned. "Croatoan."

"Yeah. There were theories—Indian raid, disease, but nobody knows what really happened. They were all just gone. I mean, wiped out overnight," Max frowned uneasily at the pole.

"You don't think that's what's going on here, I mean...," his voice trailed off as he glanced at Sam.

"Whatever I saw in my head, it sure wasn't good. But what do you think could do that?"

"Well, I mean, like Max said, all of your weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow, so..."

"We should get help. Bobby, uh, Ellen maybe?" Max suggested. "I'm sure Grace might know something."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," Dean pulled out his cellphone then frowned. "I don't have a signal."

Sam pulled his out then shook his head, "I don't either."

Max checked hers and shook her head, "Nope. No signal."

Dean sighed and walked over to a nearby pay phone. He held it up to his ear then clicked the receiver several times before putting it back, "Line's dead. I'll tell you one thing. If I was gonna massacre a town, that'd be my first step."

**Tanner residence...**

Max snooped around the house as Dean and Sam spoke to the second son and father. She peered through one window, seeing two men standing in the open doorway to her left and a woman sitting tied up and covered in blood on the right. Max crouched her shoulders and walked back around, finding the boys standing at the base of the steps. Sam noticed her first, "Hey, you find anything?"

"Yeah, a woman's tied up. I'm guessing the mom."

"Yeah, come on," Dean pulled out a gun and cocked it. Sam did the same as Max pulled a small pistol out of her jacket. Dean and Sam peered through a window on the front porch and watched as the father cut his son's arm with a large knife, letting the blood fall down onto the mother's shoulder. Dean pushed Max back as he kicked the door open, Sam following him in and Max hesitating in the doorway. The father screamed as he rushed at them with his knife, but Dean shot him thrice in the chest, killing him. The son leaped out the window, breaking the glass then sprinting into the woods. Sam ran to the window then lowered his gun.

Max ran inside to the woman's aid as Dean walked up next to Sam, "Hey, ma'am...it's going to be okay."

**Local clinic...**

Dean pulled the Impala close the curb. Sam helped Mrs Tanner out of the car and to the building. Dean glanced around furtively as Max held the door open for Sam. Dean pulled out Mr Tanner's body covered in a canvas and hoisted him over his shoulders. Max followed him inside, seeing Sam leading Mrs Tanner to the back of the clinic with a blond-haired woman. Another woman stood in a lab coat, looking a little baffled. She noticed Dean and Max, "Is that—"

"Mr. Tanner?" Dean hiked the body up.

"Was he attacked too?" the doctor stammered.

"Uh...no, actually, he did the attacking and then he got himself shot."

"Shot?" she echoed in disbelief.

"Yeah."

And who are you?" she frowned and glanced at Max.

"U.S. Marshal. I'd show you my badge, but uh..."

"Oh. Sorry. Bring him back here," she ushered him to the back as Max snuck in along with Dean to avoid being talked to.

**In the back lab...**

Doctor Lee patched up Mrs Tanner's shoulder. The doctor stopped after listening to the woman's story, "Wait, you said Jake helped him? Your son Jake?"

Mrs Tanner nodded, tearing up, "They beat me. Tied me up."

"I don't believe it," the nurse, stared.

"Pam," the doctor silenced her then turned back to Mrs Tanner. "Beverly . . . do you have any idea why they would act this way? Any history of chemical dependency?"

"No, of course not. I don't know why. One minute they were my husband and my son. And the next, they had the devil in them."

"We gotta talk," Dean whispered to Sam then nudged Max and left the lab. "Those guys were whacked out of their gourds."

"What do you think? Multiple demons, mass possession?" Sam asked once they were far away enough in the waiting room.

"If it is a possession there could be more," Max shrugged.

"God knows how many, it could be like a friggin' Shriner convention," Dean commented, shaking his head.

"Great."

"Of course, that's one way to wipe out a town, you take it from the inside," Max pointed out, folding her arms.

"I don't know," Sam furred his brows, starting to pace. "We didn't see any of the demon smoke with Mr. Tanner, or any of the other usual signs."

"Well, whatever. Something turned him into a monster," Dean shook his head and looked pointedly at Sam. "And you know if you woulda taken out the other one there'd be one less to worry about."

"I'm sorry, all right? I hesitated, Dean, it was a kid!"

"No, it was an "it". Not the best time for a bleeding heart, Sam."

Max gave Dean a look which he ignored as Dr Lee stalked out of the lab, her pumps clicking very loudly on the floor. Sam walked up to her, "How's the patient?"

"Terrible!" she snapped. "What the hell happened out there?"

"We don't know," Max replied.

"Yeah? Well, you just killed my next door neighbor."

"We didn't have a choice," Dean frowned, stepping in front of Max protectively.

"Maybe so, but we need the county Sheriff. I need the coroner...and why are you here, anyway?" Dr Lee threw hand out in Max's direction.

Max opened her mouth but Sam changed the subject, "Phones are down."

Dr Lee huffed and folded her arms, "I know, I tried. Tell me you have a police radio in the car?"

"Yeah we do. But it crapped out just like everything else."

"I don't understand what is happening."

"How far is it to the next town?" Dean asked.

"It's about forty miles down to Sidewinder."

"All right, I'm gonna go down there, see if I can find some help," Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder. "My partner'll stick around, keep you guys safe. Come on, Max."

"Safe from what?" Dr Lee asked, raising a brow.

"We'll get back to you on that," Dean reassured and walked out with Max.

The got into the car and Dean took off back the road they had used to come in. The town seemed deserted, no on in sight. They drove for a while then found an abandoned car on the side of the road. Dean killed the engine, "Max, stay here."

"But, Dad-"

"Stay here," he said as he grabbed his gun. He examined the empty car, finding a bloody knife beside the driver's side window. Dean glanced around, his jaw shifting. He tossed the knife inside the car and jogged back to the Impala. As Dean got in, Max asked, "What'd you find?"

"Nothing," he stepped on the gas for a second, not allowing Max to glance inside the car as they passed by it. Max swallowed, glancing at Dean then out the window, already guessing that whatever Dean found was bad. As they basically left the town limits, the came across a blockade in the road. Dean stepped on the brake and frowned in confusion. Max squinted her eyes, "Hey, isn't that...isn't that the kid from the Tanner house?"

Dean followed her gaze and found the kid they met earlier standing with the men with a gun in his hands. Suddenly, there was a bang on the top of the car and a man appeared in the driver's side window, smiling. Dean grinned, "Oh-ho-ho. Hey. You scared me."

"Sorry. Road's closed," the man kept his smile constant.

"Yeah, I can see that. What's up?"

"Quarantine," the man stated. Max turned her head, noticing another man leaning down on her side window, smiling oddly as well.

"Quarantine? What is it?" Dean asked, smiling innocently.

"Don't know. Something going around out there."

"Uh-huh. Who told you that?"

"County Sheriff."

"Is he here?"

"No. He called," the man thought for a minute. "Say, why don't you get out of the car and we'll talk a little?"

"Well, you are a handsome devil, but I don't swing that way, sorry," Dean teased. "Besides, my daughter here has...has anxiety attacks. I can't let her get too nervous or she'll keel over."

Max gave him a questioning look but the man didn't seem fooled, "I'd sure appreciate it if you got out of the car, just for a quick minute."

"Yeah, I'll bet you would. Max," Dean quickly put the car in reverse and the man grabbed Dean by the collar.

"Dad!" Max tugged on the other man that had a hold of her sleeve. She leaned back and kicked at the man, finally hitting him in the face and he released her. Dean swung the car around, causing the man to loose his grip and roll away as Dean shifted it into drive and took off back to the town.

When they came back, the town was still deserted, no animals, no nothing. Dean glanced around and Max screamed, "DAD!"

Dean slammed on the brakes, the man from this morning holding a rifle to the car, "Hands where I can see 'em!"

Dean shook his head, "Son of a..."

"Get out of the car! Both of you! Out of the car!"

All right, easy there, big guy," Dean opened the door and Max slipped him a handgun. Dean stood up and aimed the gun at the man, "All right, put it down!"

"Lower it now!" the man shouted louder.

"PUT IT DOWN!"

"ARE YOU ONE OF 'EM?"

"NO! ARE YOU?"

"NO!"

"YOU COULD BE LYING!"

"SO COULD YOU!"

"ALL RIGHT! All right," Max leaned out of the car window, holding her hands up to calm them. "We could do this all day, all right? Let's just uh, let's take it easy before we kill each other. Please."

The man frowned then relaxed a little, "What's going on with everybody?"

"I don't know," Dean lowered his aim.

"My neighbor...Mr. Rogers, he-"

"You've got a neighbor named Mr. Rogers?"

"Not anymore. He came at me with a hatchet. I put him down. He's not the only one, I mean, it's happening to everyone."

"We're heading over to the Doc's place, there's still some people left."

"No, no way. I'm getting the hell out," the man shook his head vigorously.

"There's no way out, they got the bridge covered," Max explained, glancing back and forth between them.

"I don't believe you."

"Fine, stay here, be my guest," Dean lowered his gun and ushered Max inside. The man grumbled at himself as he lowered his rifle and pulled out a handgun. Max climbed into the back as the man took her spot. Dean held his gun pointed at the man and the man kept his pointed at Dean. "Well, this ought to be a relaxing drive."

Max aimed her gun at the man's head, "Hi, I'm Max. And you are?"

The man stared at the gun then at her, "Mark...and why are you-"

"I'm his daughter."

"Oh. Huh."

"What?"

"I can see the family resemblance," he glanced at Dean who just glared. By the time they reached the clinic, it was already dark out. Some of the monstrous men were starting to crowd the streets. Dean skidded to a halt and grabbed Max, pulling her to the clinic with him as Mark kept his rifle aimed at the townspeople. Dean banged on the door, "Sammy? Open up!"

Sam appeared and opened the door, locking it behind them, "Did you guys, uh, get to a phone?"

"Road block," Dean released Max and glanced at Mark. "I'm gonna have a word. Doc's inside."

Once Mark left, Sam stepped closer, "What's going on out there?"

"Man, I don't know, I feel like Chuck Heston in the Omega Man, I mean, Sarge is the only sane person I could find."

"What's Omega Man?" Max asked, readjusting her shirt and jacket.

"Forget about it," Dean rolled his eyes and turned to Sam. "What are we dealing with, do you know?"

"Yeah. Doc thinks it's a virus."

"Okay, great. What do you think?"

"I think she's right."

"Really?" Max frowned at him.

"Yeah. And I think the infected are trying to infect others with blood-to-blood contact. Oh, but it gets better. The uh, the virus? Leaves traces of sulfur in the blood."

"A demonic virus?" Dean's went a little wide.

"Yeah, more like demonic germ warfare. At least it explains why I've been having visions."

"It's like a Biblical plague."

"Yeah. You don't know how right you are, Dean."

"Um," Max thought for a moment, pulling John's journal out. "I think I remember reading about something. Yeah...about the Roanoke colony."

"And?"

"Well, he always had a theory about Croatoan. He thought it was a demon's name. Sometimes known as Deva or sometimes Reesha. A demon of plague and pestilence," she read off the journal.

"Well, that, that's terrific," Dena threw his hands up. "Why here, why now?"

"I have no idea," Sam shook his head. "But Dean, who knows how far this thing can spread? We gotta get out of here, we gotta warn people."

"They've got one! In here!" Mark ran from the lab.

"What do you mean?" Dean walked up to meet him.

"The wife. She's infected," Sam explained.

"We've gotta take care of this. We can't just leave her in there. My neighbors, they were strong. The longer we wait, the stronger she'll get," Mark insisted, panicking.

Dean pulled out his gun and Max jumped back, "Dad, are you serious?"

"Stay out here," he followed Mark into the lab.

"You're gonna kill Beverly Tanner?" Pam squeaked, realizing their intent.

"Doctor, could there be any treatment? Some kind of cure for this?" Sam pleaded.

"Can you cure it?" Dean demanded, not noticing Max walking in.

"For God's sake, I don't even know what 'it' is!" Dr Lee shouted, trembling where she stood.

"I told you, it's just a matter of time before she breaks through," Mark insisted.

"Just leave her in there, you can't shoot her like an animal!" Pam screamed.

"Sam," Dean turned to him. Sam sighed as he walked over to the door of the utility room. Dean and Mark held their guns at the ready. Sam swung the door open and the two men rushed inside, finding Beverly Tanner huddled in a corner, sobbing. She noticed them and jumped, "Mark, what are you doing? Mark, it's, it's them! They locked me in here, they, they tried to kill me! They're infected, not me! Please, Mark! You've known me all your life! Please!"

"You sure she's one of 'em?" Dean glanced at Sam. Sam twisted his face into disgust and nodded. Mark, on the verge of tears, pulled back, unable to look as Dean stepped forward and fired two shots into Beverly Tanner.

**Later...**

Mark peeked through the blinds, seeing movement across the street. Sam fiddled with his knife as Dean checked his gun, making sure it was fit. He glanced at Max who halfheartedly skimmed through John's journal. He looked down, not really knowing what to say. Suddenly, they heard a scream, "Oh god! Is there any on me? Am I okay?"

They ran to the lab, finding Pam freaking out, "Why are we staying here? Please, let's just go!"

"No, we can't, because those things are everywhere," Dean stated, placing his gun back in his jacket.

Pam sunk down, "Oh god..."

Dr Lee tried to comfort her, "Hey, shh, shh."

Sam turned to Dean, with Max standing at his side, "She's right about one thing. We can't stay here. We've gotta get out of here, get to the Roadhouse? Somewhere. Let people know what's coming."

"Yeah, good point. Night of the Living Dead didn't exactly end pretty."

Mark appeared, sighing, "Well, I'm not sure we've got a choice. Lots of folks up here are good with rifles — even with all your hardware we're, we're easy targets. So unless you've got some explosives..."

"Can't you just make some?"

They all turned to Max. She stammered, "Wuh...well, I mean, this is a doctor's office. Lots of chemicals. Alcohol, potassium chloride, and-"

Suddenly, there was loud banging from the front of the clinic. They all ran out of the lab, seeing a kid pleading from the other side of the door, "Hey! Let me in, let me in! Please!

"It's Duane Tanner!" Mark pushed the front, letting Duane in.

"Thank god," Duane limped inside, carrying his backpack.

"Duane, you okay?"

Dean glanced back at Sam, "That's the guy that I, uh-"

"Yeah."

Duane circled around, taking in everyone's face, "Who else is in here?"

Dean reached out and grabbed his arm, calming him, "Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, chief. Hey Doc! Give Duane a good once-over, would you?"

Dr. Lee nodded, "Pam?"

Pam came out, helping Dr Lee lead Duane to the back, but he hesitated, frowning at Dean, "Who are you?"

"Never mind who I am," Dean waved him off. "Doc."

"Yeah, okay."

"Duane. Where you been?" Mark asked as they all followed Duane into the back lab.

"On a fishing trip up by Roslyn. I came back this afternoon. I . . . I saw Roger McGill being dragged out of his house by people we know! They started cutting him with knives! I ran, I've been hiding in the woods ever since," he pushed Pam away from his scar on his forehead. "Has anybody seen my mom and dad?"

Dean scratched the back of his head, and muttered, "Awkward..."

"You're bleeding," Dr Lee gestured to a large gash in Duane's right shin.

"Where'd you get that?" Dean demanded.

"I was running, I must have tripped."

"Tie him up, there's rope in there," he ordered Mark.

"Wait..."

Dean lashed his gun out, cocking it, "Sit down!"

"I'm sorry, Duane, he's right. We've gotta be careful," Mark grabbed the rope.

"Careful? About what?"

"Did they bleed on you?" Dean glared at him.

"No, what the hell? No!"

"Doc? Any way to know for sure, any test?" Sam asked.

"I've studied Beverly's bloodwork backwards and forwards-"

"My mom?" Duane huffed, baffled and confused.

"It took three hours for the virus to incubate. The sulfur didn't appear in the blood until then, so...no, there'd be no way of knowing. Not until after Duane turns."

"Dean, I gotta talk to you. Now," Sam pulled Dean outside of the lab.

Mark pointed to a nearby chair, "Sit in that chair."

Duane hesitated then nodded, sitting in the chair as Mark tied him up good. Max and the rest of them stared as Duane's eyes started to swell up in tears. After a moment, Dean walked back in, cocking the gun and aiming it at Duane. Max stepped back, unable to speak but keeping a straight face. Duane's eyes went wide in realization, "No, you're not gonna . . . No, no, I swear it's not in me!"

"Oh God. We're all gonna die," Pam muttered, backing away.

"Maybe he's telling the truth," Mark stammered.

"No, he's not him, not anymore," Dean readied himself.

"Stop it!" Duane shouted then glanced at the doctor. "Ask her, ask the doctor! It's not in me!"

Dr Lee furred her brows, shrugging her shoulders, "I...I can't tell."

Tears started flowing as Duane sobbed, begging, "Please, don't. Don't, please. I swear, it's not in me, it's not in me, I swear, I, I swear it's not in me. No, don't."

"I got no choice," Dean moved his finger to the trigger. Duane kept sobbing, closing his eyes as he waited. Max stared at the boy, frowning slightly and quietly wondering if this was truely right. She glanced up at Dean who peeked in her direction but not directly at her. Dean trembled, tensing up then lowering the gun suddenly, "Damn it!"

Duane panted in relief, muttering a thankful prayer. Dean left and Max ran after him, catching up to him in hallway. Dean held a hand up to her, "Not a word."

Max hesitated then nodded, "Yes sir."

Dean unlocked a door and Sam burst out, running past him and Max into the lab. After several hours, Max helped the boys prepare homemade bombs. They worked in silence when Dr Lee entered, "It's been over four hours. Duane's blood is still clean. I don't think he's infected. I'd like to untie him, if that's all right."

Sam glanced a Dean who just went back to work, "Sure. Yeah."

She left, and Sam and Max exchanged glances, she gave him a "You ask him" look and he made a face then turned to Dean, "Dean, you know I'm gonna ask you why."

"Yeah, I know," he poured some alcohol into another container.

"So why? Why didn't you do it?"

Dean ignored the question, "We need more alcohol."

Sam sighed and got up, going to a back room. Max grabbed the last alcohol bottle left and held it out, "Dad, here."

He stared at it then her, scowling, "Thanks."

He started pouring it with some other chemicals. Max watched him for a bit then turned to the back room, hearing the door close then lock. "Dad?"

"What?"

"Who's in the back room with Sammy?"

Suddenly, they heard a crash and glass breaking. Dean got up, grabbing his gun as Mark came running in, armed as well. Dean ran to the door, trying to open it to no avail. He stepped back and kicked it open, finding Pam straddling Sam's chest with a scalpel in her hand. Dean aimed his gun and fired, hitting Pam straight in the back. She fell over to the side, dead. Sam pushed her away then held out his hand. Max came forward, about to help him when Mark and Dean grabbed her back. "She bled on him. He's got the virus," Mark warned.

Sam pulled his hand back, furring his brows, knowing it to be true. He got up himself, and walked over to the lab, past Dean, Mark, and Max. They followed him as he approached the doctor. She tended to his wound, cautious of his blood then patched him up. Dean paced the room as Sam sat there, teary-eyed with Max sitting next to him, "Doc, check his wound again, would you? Doctor!"

"What's she need to examine him for?" Mark barked. "You saw what happened."

Dr Lee approached Sam cautiously, "Did her blood actually enter your wound?"

"Come on, of course it did!" Mark shouted.

"We don't know that for sure," Dean stopped pacing.

"We can't take a chance," Duane noted.

"You know what we have to do," Mark glared at Dean.

He glared back, "Nobody is shooting my brother."

"He isn't gonna be your brother much longer. You said it yourself," Duane raised his voice.

"Nobody is shooting anyone!"

"You were gonna shoot me!"

Dean pointed a finger in his face, "You don't shut your pie-hole, I still might!"

"Hey, enough! This isn't going to help the situation," Max intervened and Dean went back to pacing.

Sam shook his head, "They're right. I'm infected; just give me the gun and I'll do it myself."

"Forget it," Dean and Max replied in unison.

"I'm not gonna become one of those things," Sam pushed Max down, forcing her to jump off the counter.

Dean pulled Max to his side, keeping her a good distance away, "Sam, we've still got some time-"

"Time for what?" Mark snapped then sighed. "Look, I understand he's your brother, and I'm sorry, I am. But we gotta take care of this."

He pulled out a handgun and Dean stepped in to block him, "I'm gonna say this one time — you make a move on him, you'll be dead before you hit the ground. You understand me? I mean, do I make myself clear?"

"Then what are we supposed to do?" he shouted over Dean.

Dean thought for a moment then tossed Mark his car keys, "Get the hell out of here, that's what. Take my car. You've got the explosives, there's an arsenal in there. You two go with him-" he glanced at Max "-You've got enough firepower to handle anything now.

"What? Dad, what're you saying?" Max asked as Dean stepped around her.

Sam realized his intent, "Dean, no. No. Go with them. This is your only chance! Max needs you."

"You're not gonna get rid of me that easy."

"Dad, he's right. Come with us, please," Max pleaded.

Dean ignored her and glanced at Mark who tightened his jaw, "Okay, it's your funeral. Duane, grab the girl."

"Okay."

"You touch me and you're dead!" Max slid away from him.

"Max, go with them," Dean nudged her back.

She grabbed onto his arm, "Dad, no. Please. Sammy's fine. Both of you can come! Please! Dad, don't do this. No! No!"

Duane wrapped his arms around her waist and hoisted her up. "Let go of me! Dad! DAD! SAMMY! Stop it! Let go of me! Dad, please! I just found you! Dad!"

Dean handed Mark his cellhpone, "Find Grace Winchester's number. Call her and she'll come pick up Max."

Mark took it, "You shouldn't leave your daughter like this."

"She's not safe with me. At least this way, she'll have a chance to live a normal life," Dean swallowed, blinking away the crying feeling. He could still hear Max's pleas.

Outside, Max continued to scream and cry, "Let me go, asshole! Let me go!"

Mark came out and seethed, "Will you shut her up!"

Duane placed a hand over Max's mouth, still keeping a good grip on her. Dr Lee came out, running to Duane's aid, "Here, set her down. Hey, hey, Max was it? Calm down. Please, you need to calm down."

Max thrashed a bit as Duane sat down on the sidewalk, Max in his lap with Dr Lee by their side. Max stopped, panting with her mouth still covered. She growled and pulled his hand off, "I hate you!"

"Sweetie, you need to be quiet," Dr Lee pleaded.

"No! I hate you. I hate you all!" she tugged on Duane's grip, but he held on tighter.

Mark started to walk over when Max suddenly paused. She frowned at the sky, her eyes searching the sky. Dr Lee furred her brows, "Max? Max, what is it?"

Max turned to look at her, "Why is it so quiet?"

They all listened then stood up, seeing and hearing nothing in the town in the dead of night. Mark's jaw dropped, "Unbelievable."

"Did they...did they all just disappear?" Duane asked, loosing his grip. Max jumped free of his arms and ran back inside the clinic. She ran into the door, and banged her fists on it, "Dad! DAD! SAMMY! Open the door! Come on!"

Dean appeared in the small window and unlocked the door, "Max? Why are you-"

Max leaped up and attacked him in a bear hug. Dean staggered back, wrapping his arms instinctively around her. Dr Lee appeared in the doorway and both boys looked questioningly at her, "You'd better come see this."

Dean picked Max up, her arms and legs still wrapped around him in a tight hug as he followed the doctor, Sam behind him. Outside, they joined Duane and Mark, staring at everything in the small town. Dr Lee stuffed her hands in her pockets, "There's no one. Not anywhere. They've all just...vanished."

**December 1, 2006, following morning, Clinic...**

While Sam was with the doctor, Max and Dean sat in the waiting room alone. Max sat with John's journal in her lap, not even looking at it. Dean gently patted his hands together in thought, "Um, Max...look, I...I just wanted to say I'm sorry...for what happened. I, uh, I shouldn't have let them take you like that. I was just scared that if you stayed with me and Sam, you'd...you know. Will...will you say something?"

"What do you want me to say?" she leaned forward. "Dad...you left me and the Impala with three strangers while you waited to die with Sammy. What were you thinking?"

"Max, I..."

"What? Dad, what?"

"I never wanted this life for you, okay?" he snapped. "I was...happy, and-and-and nervous, and scared went I met you. I didn't know what to do. Max, you're a good kid. You're smart. Real smart. But, I don't want you to grow up like me."

"Why?" she scoffed, shaking her head. "Dad, I've been living this life since I could walk. Grandpa took me all over Texas. I helped him bury monsters and trap demons. I know I'm only 10 and there's not much I can do. Why do you think I was reading Bobby's books. I wanna help. I wanna help you in any way I can."

"Max," he silenced her. "The way you...shot Angela Mason...it reminded me of, well, me. You didn't hesitate, you shot her, killed her."

"She was already dead, Dad."

"I know. But like you said, you're 10. 10! No, 10 year old should be having to shoot zombies and demons. You deserve a normal life."

"Dad...I'm never gonna get normal. I'm living with you, Sammy, Grace, and Bobby. None of us are normal. Unless you plan to buy a nice house and start a cute apple pie life, then yeah, I'll do that. But Dad, I never once complained. I know you and Sammy do hardcore case work, but-" she shrugged "-this is my life. I don't know what I'll do if I never had this."

Dean thought on this, "Yeah, I guess you're right. I don't know...I was just worried that you'd end up like me. Killing things and always on the road. No home."

"Dad," she reached out and patted his arm. "You have a home. A home with Bobby. You know that. You have me. You have Sammy and Grace. Dad, you're not alone."

Dean placed his hand on hers, "Thank you, Max. To be honest, I'm not sure how I'd make it through all of this without you all."

"I know, Dad."

**Later, outside the clinic...**

The Winchesters waited, sitting on the hood as Dr Lee finished talking to Mark and Duane. She walked over near them as the two men left in a white pick-up. Dean caught the doctor's attention and gestured to Sam, "What about him?"

"He's going to be fine. No signs of infection," she smiled and walked back inside.

Dean glanced back at Sam, raising a brow. Sam shrugged his shoulders, "Hey man, don't look at me. I got no clue."

"I swear, I'm gonna lose sleep over this one. I mean, why here, why now? And where the hell did everybody go? It's like they just friggin' melted," Dean rambled, circling the car and opening the door for Max.

Sam hesitated, "Why was I immune?"

"Yeah. You know what? That's a good question. You know, I'm already starting to feel like this is the one that got away?" Dean frowned and got in. Sam sighed and got in as well; taking off out of the town.

After stopping by a convenience store, Dean parked the Impala next to a small river and opened two beers for him and Dean. Max got a old-fashioned Coke bottle and searched through the packaged foods for something decent to eat. She grabbed a bag of chips and walked over to where Dean leaned on the guard rail, "...all this driving back and forth across country, you know I've never been to the Grand Canyon? Or we could go to T.J. Or Hollywood, see if we can bang Lindsey Lohan."

"Why are you planning on killing Lindsey Lohan?" Max asked, coming up between them and sitting on the guard rail, next to Sam.

"I'm totally not planning on...that. I meant that I, uh, plan on banging on her, uh, door to meet her," Dean smiled. Max raised a brow, unconvinced. "Look, I just think we should take a break from all this. Why do we gotta get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can't we live life a little bit?"

"Well, that sounds like fun. We could go to Disneyworld or...Six Flags. That's always fun," she suggested, shrugging her shoulders.

"You two, I swear," Sam took a swig of his beer.

"Well, I'd love to go to Disneyworld. Meet all those princesses. Mmm, Jasmine."

"Okay, Dad, chill out," Max chuckled. "If you do that, we'll get kicked out."

"Hey, I told you, all guys are dogs. Including me. Especially me," he muttered that last part, taking a drink.

"Yeah, but I love you anyways."

Dean paused and glanced at her. Max smiled and Dean slowly mimicked it, "I love you, too."

Max smiled proudly and took a giant gulp of Coke. Sam cleared his throat, "Hey, Max, can you go get me that bag of baked chips?"

"Baked? Seriously, Sammy?" Dean teased.

Sam gave him a look and Max slapped his knee, "Sure. It's the Lay's right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay," she got down and walked to the car, she opened the trunk and searched through the bags of junkfood. She grabbed the baked chips and was about to slam the trunk down when she caught wind of the boys' conversation.

"...right before Dad died, he told me something," Dean's voice trembled. "He told me something about you."

"Dean, what did he tell you?" Sam's voice asked.

* * *

><p><strong>end of chapter 10!<strong>

**don't forget to review!  
><strong>


	11. Hostage

**chapter 11!**

**disclaimer: i do not own Supernatural**

**rated M for language and gore **

**enjoy and R&R**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Recap of last chapter...<em>**

_"Okay," she got down and walked to the car, she opened the trunk and searched through the bags of junkfood. She grabbed the baked chips and was about to slam the trunk down when she caught wind of the boys' conversation._

_"...right before Dad died, he told me something," Dean's voice trembled. "He told me something about you."_

_"Dean, what did he tell you?" Sam's voice asked._

**December 1, 2006, riverside...**

Max listened, their voices mere whispers in the wind. She heard the trembling voice of her father, "He said that he wanted me to watch out for you, to take care of you."

"He told you that a million times," Sam reminded.

"No, this time was different. He said that I had to save you."

"Save me from what?" Sam raised a brow, not noticing Max quietly walking over.

"He just said that I had to save you, that nothing else mattered; and that if I couldn't, I'd..."

"You'd what, Dean?"

"That I'd have to kill you. He said that I might have to kill you, Sammy."

"Kill me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know."

"He must've had reason...right?" they turned to Max, startled. "I mean, does the demon have plans? Is Sammy gonna go Darkside or something?"

"Max, enough," Dean gave her look.

"No, she's right. What else did he say, Dean?"

"Nothing, that's it, I swear."

"How could you not have told me this?" Sam fumed, making aggressive stances.

"Because it was Dad, and he begged me not to."

"Who cares?" Sam shouted, pointing accusingly. "Take some responsibility for yourself, Dean! You had no right to keep this from me!"

"You think I wanted this? Huh? I wish to God he'd never opened his mouth. Then I wouldn't have to walk around with this screaming in my head all day-"

"Dad-"

"Max, shut your mouth and go inside the damn car already!" Dean pointed at her.

She shifted her jaw and stomped back to the car, opening the side door and slamming it extra hard behind her and folded her arms, pouting heavily. The windows were down so she could still see them held his arms out, questioning Dean. But he just shrugged Sam off, backing away. Sam took a gulp of his beer, shaking his head; Dean approached him softly, whispering to him. Sam glared at him then nodded. Max looked away, she knew Dean had convinced Sam of something, but it wouldn't last. It seems, both brothers are stubborn enough not to listen to each other.

**December 5, 2006, on the road...**

Dean drove the Impala down the interstate highway. Grace was in the passenger's seat. Her phone went off and she flipped it open, "Hello?"

"It's Ellen."

"Hey, Ellen," she glanced at Dean. "Have you heard from Sam?"

"I have, but he made me promise not to tell you where he is."

"Ellen, please. Something bad could be going on here...Sam could be in trouble."

"Now Grace, they say you can't protect your loved ones forever," Ellen sighed then snorted. "Well, I say screw that. What else is family for? He's in Lafayette, Indiana."

"Thank you, Ellen," she hung up and turned to Dean. "Lafayette, Indiana."

"All right," Dean glanced in the side mirrors then made a large U-turn in the road.

**December 7, 2006, Blue House Motel...**

Dean coaxed the Impala into a parking spot, seeing Sam leaning on the window. Dean let out a sigh of relief, "Oh, thank god you're okay."

Sam moved from the window to reveal a light brown-haired woman standing across the table. Dean perked up, "Oh, you're better than okay. Sam, you sly dog!"

"Dean, stop drooling. Look," she nudged him. Dean turned in his seat, following her gaze to the roof of a building across the parking lot. There was a figure laying down on the roof with a black sniper gun pointed at Sam's room.

"What the hell?" Dean squinted his eyes.

"Oh, no," her face fell. "I think that's Gordon. Dean. We gotta go."

"Yeah," he pulled the key out and they got out of the car. The swiftly ran to the other building, climbing the fire escape. They were about halfway when they heard gunshots and the sound of glass breaking. Dean took the stairs two at a time, Grace right behind him. Dean jumped onto the roof, running to where Gordon laid, "Gordon!"

Gordon turned and received a kick in the face from Dean. He straddled Gordon's chest and started wailing his fists into the man's face. Grace hopped onto the roof, "Dean!"

Dean stopped and pulled Gordon close, "You do that to my brother, I'll kill you!"

"Dean, wait!" Grace ran up to him as Gordon grabbed his rifle and slammed it into the side of Dean's head twice. Dean fell over, unconscious. As Gordon got up, Grace turned and brought her leg around. Gordon blocked her kick and prepared to aim his gun. Grace bent down, getting down on her hands as she kicked him with both feet in his lower abdomen. Gordon regained his balance and dodged her punches. He pushed her back then brought the butt of the rifle and smashed into her face. Grace turned and fell down, knocked out.

**Later, at a cabin...**

Grace jolted awake after feeling a slap on her cheek. Gordon stood over her with a smile, "Hey, Grace. Did you have a nice nap?"

Grace glared at him and tried to lunge only to feel the sharp pain of the rope binding her wrists to the chair she was sitting in. Gordon chuckled, "I don't think so."

He walked away and Grace saw Dean tied to another chair across the room. He nodded, glaring at Gordon in a mocking way, "So Gordy. I know we ain't exactly your favorite people, but don't you think this is a little extreme?"

"What, you think this is revenge?" Gordon opened his duffle bag.

"Well, we did leave you tied up in your own mess for three days. Which was awesome."

"Dean," Grace hissed.

Dean cleared his throat, "Sorry, I shouldn't laugh."

"Yeah. I was definitely planning on whuppin' your ass for that."

Dean nodded, licking his lips. Gordon turned and sat on the table next to Grace, staring intently at the both of them, "But that's not what this is. This isn't personal. I'm not a killer, Dean. I'm a hunter. And your brother's fair game."

"Really? Enlighten me," Grace dared.

Gordon stared at her for a moment then sighed, "See, I was doing an exorcism down in Louisiana. Teenage girl, seemed routine, some low-level demon. But between all the jabbering and the head-spinning, the damn thing muttered something. About a coming war. And I don't think it meant to, it just kind of slipped out. But it was too late. Peaked my interest. And you can really make a demon talk, you got the right tools."

"And what happened to the girl it was possessing?" Dean asked.

"She didn't make it."

He shook his head, looking away, "Well, you're a son of a bitch."

Gordon got up and slapped him. Grace wriggled in her chair, "Hey!"

Gordon ignored her, "That's my momma you're talking about."

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

"And I don't care," Gordon glanced at her. Dean appeared unharmed by the blow and Gordon started pacing, "Anyway. This demon tells me there are soldiers to fight in this coming war. Humans, fighting on hell's side. You believe that? I mean, they're psychics, so they're not exactly pure humans, but still. What kind of worthless scumbag have you got to be to turn against your own race? But you know the biggest kick in the ass? This demon said I knew one of them. Our very own Sammy Winchester."

Grace threw her head back, chuckling, "Oh, this is a whole new level of moronic, even for you."

"Yeah?" he walked over to her. "Come on. I know. About Sam's visions. I know everything."

"Really? Because a demon told you?" she laughed at the idea. "Yeah, and it wasn't lying."

"Hey. I'm not some reckless yahoo, okay? I did my homework. Made damn sure it was true. Look, you've got your Roadhouse connections, I got mine. It's how I found Sammy in the first place," he crossed to a corner and sat down, slouching in the chair as he picked up his rifle. "About a month ago I found another one of these freaks here in town. He could deep-fry a person just by touching them."

"Yeah, did he kill anyone?" Dean raised a brow.

"Well, besides Mr. Tinkles the cat? No. But he was working up to it. They're all going to be killers. We've got to take them all out. And that means Sammy too," he cocked the rifle.

"You think Sam's stupid enough to walk through that front door?" Dean glared.

"No, I don't. Especially since I'm sure you found a way to warn him."

Dean and Grace exchanged glances and Gordon smiled, "Ha. You really think I'm that stupid?"

Grace raised her brows meaningfully and Gordon stood up, pacing again, "No. Sammy's going to scope the place, see me covering the front door, so he's going to take the back. And when he does he'll hit the tripwire. Then..."

He reached into his bag and pulled out a grenade, "...boom."

"Sam's not gonna fall for a fucking tripwire," Grace glared hatefully.

"Maybe you're right. That's why I'll have a second one," he reached into his bag and pulled out another one. "Hey, look. I'm sorry. I wish I didn't have to do this, i really do. But for what it's worth, it'll be quick."

"You really are a son of a bitch."

"You know, I'm really tired of hearing that," he set the grenades down and swung his fist into Grace's face.

"Don't touch her! Don't you dare fucking touch her," Dean hissed, wriggling his wrists in his bounds. Gordon ignored him. He grabbed his grenades and a roll of tripwire and got to work on setting up the trap. Grace rolled her jaw, feeling the throbbing pain. When Gordon finished, Dean tried to reason with him. "Come on, man. I know Sam, better than anyone. He's got more of a conscience than I do, I mean, the guy feels guilty surfing the internet for porn."

Gordon pulled up a chair and straddled it, resting his arms on the back of it, "Maybe you're right. But one day he's going to be a monster."

"How? Huh? How's a guy like Sam become a monster?"

"Beats me. But he will."

"No, you don't know that!"

Gordon raised a brow, taken aback by his anger, "I'm surprised at you, Dean. Getting all emotional. I'd heard you were more of a professional than this. Look, let's say you were cruising around in that car of yours and, uh, you had Little Hitler riding shotgun, right? Back when he was just some goofy, crappy artist. But you knew what he was going to turn into someday. You'd take him out, no questions, am I right?"

"That's not Sam," Grace insisted, ignoring her headache.

"Yes it is. You just can't see it yet. It's his destiny. Look, I'm sympathetic. He's your brother, you both love the guy. This has got to hurt like hell for you guys," he got up and reached into his bag, pulling out a scarf. He gagged Dean with it, tying it tight at the back of his head. He pulled out another one and gagged Grace, after he tied it and leaned down and spoke in her ear, "But here's the thing. It would wreck him. But your dad? If it really came right down to it, he would have had the stones to do the right thing here."

**That night, in the cabin...**

Grace and Dean glared unblinkingly at Gordon. He stared at the front door with his rifle at his side. They all turned their heads to the back, hearing the lock rustling. Gordon snorted in surprise of himself, "You hear him? Here he comes."

Suddenly, the first grenade exploded, sending some debris around the two Winchesters. Dean screamed through the scarf as Grace thrashed in her chair. Gordon remained calm, "Hold on. Not yet. Just wait and see."

Then the second grenade went off. Tears started pouring down Grace's face as Gordon got up, holding his rifle at the ready. He entered the back room and Dean started wriggling in his chair. Grace twisted her ankles, realizing they were bound as well. It took a few tries but she lifted her hips up by her right hand. She squeezed her fingers into her pocket, pulling out her pocket knife. She flicked it open then twirled it so she was holding it backwards and started cutting the rope on her wrist. She and Dean flinched when they heard a shout: "PUT IT DOWN!"

They exchanged glances, the voice sounded like Sam. Grace cut one rope and continued on the rest on her right wrist. They heard rustling of movement and grunts and groans of pain then silence. Sam staggered into the room, cuts and blood covering his face. He got to Grace first, untying her left hand. Grace pulled the scarf off her mouth, "Go help Dean, I got this."

He nodded and turned to Dean, untying him. Grace got up, stuffing her knife back into her pocket as she and Dean grabbed Sam, examining him. Grace gently held his head, examining every cut. Dean steamed and headed to the back room, "That son of a..."

"Dean. No," Sam stopped him.

"Sam, he nearly blew you up! We can't let him get away with this," Grace insisted, still holding onto his face.

"Trust me," he moved her hands away. "Gordon's taken care of. Come on."

He reached out and grabbed Dean by his jacket, pulling him towards the front door. Grace followed them outside. A moment later, they heard Gordon burst through the door, aiming two guns at them Grace pushed her brothers, "Run!"

Gordon started firing both guns. Sam grabbed Dean and Grace and threw them into a ditch beside the road, out of Gordon's view. Dean rolled over, peering above the ditch and whispering, "What the hell are we doing?"

"Just trust me on this, all right?" Sam urged.

Gordon started towards the ditch when a two police cars screeched to a halt with their sirens blaring. Gordon turned to run away but another police car blocked him. A cop aimed his gun at Gordon, "Drop your weapons, get down on your knees! Do it, now!"

Gordon shifted his jaw and dropped his gun, falling to his knees. The cop approached cautiously as the other cops surrounded Gordon, "Put your hands on your head. Easy now."

The cop put his gun away and cuffed Gordon, leading him to a squad car. Another cop opened the door of Gordon's car and pulled out the arsenal. Sam exchanged glances with his siblings, "Anonymous tip."

"You're a fine upstanding citizen, Sam," Dean complimented as all three of them relished Gordon's arrest.

After they took Gordon away, the Winchesters walked back to the Impala. Sam got in the passenger's side and started calling some girl named Ava. Dean sat on the hood as Grace stood next to him, on the phone with Ellen, "Yeah, he almost killed us both because somebody over there can't keep their fucking mouth shut."

"And you honestly think that it was me? Or Ash? Or Jo? No way," Ellen insisted.

She glanced at Dean as she started pacing, "Well, who else knows about Sam? Huh? I mean, you must have been talking to somebody."

"Hey, you can say a lot of things about us. But we are not disloyal. And we're not stupid. We haven't breathed a word of this."

She sighed, pinching the top of her nose, "Ellen...he said he had Roadhouse connections."

"And this roadhouse is full of other hunters, Grace. They're all smart. They're good trackers. Each of them with their own patterns and connections. Look, hell, I could name twelve of them right now that are capable of putting this together," she sighed, sounding defeated. "I am sorry about what happened, Dean. But I can't control these people...or what they choose to believe."

**Later, on the road...**

"Hey, Ava, it's Sam, again. Um, call me when you get this, just want to make sure you got home okay. All right. Bye," Sam clicked his phone and heaved a big sigh.

Dean glanced at him, "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, I hope so."

"Well, Gordon should be reaching for the soap for the next few years at least," Grace informed from the backseat, on her laptop.

"Yeah. If they pin Scott Carey's murder on him. And if he doesn't bust out," Sam muttered the last part.

Dean huffed and scowled, "Dude, you ever take off like that again..."

"What? You'll kill me?"

"That is so not funny."

"Yeah, it is."

"All right. All right. So where to next, then?" Grace asked.

"One word: Amsterdam."

Grace and Sam frowned, "Dean!"

"Come on, I hear the coffeeshops don't even serve coffee," Dean protested.

"We're not just gonna ditch the job," Sam reminded.

"Screw the job."

"Dean-" Grace started.

"No, no, screw it, man, I'm sick of the job anyway. I mean, we don't get paid, we don't get thanked. The only thing we get is bad luck," he ranted.

"Well, come on, dude, you're a hunter. I mean, it's what you were meant to do," Grace leaned on the front seat.

"Oh, I wasn't meant to do anything, I don't believe in that destiny crap."

Sam raised a brow, "You mean you don't believe in my destiny."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Dean, I've tried running before. I mean, I ran all the way to California and look what happened. You can't run from this. And you can't protect me."

"I can try," Dean grumbled.

"Okay, okay. Boys, look," Grace sat on the edge of the back seat. "Obviously, this...this is our lives. Hunting. Saving people. Its what we do, okay? I mean...yeah, it sucks sometimes, but we don't do it, who will?"

Sam nodded agreeably but Dean kept scowling. Grace continued, "Come on, it's really late and you two need to kiss and make-up. Go on...apologize to each other. Hug, cuddle, whatever."

Dean rolled his eyes then glanced at Sam, "Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam threw back.

Grace smacked the back of both their heads, "Whore. Nerd."

Sam and Dean smiled as Grace sat back. Sam picked up his phone again and put it to his ear. Dean noticed this, "You calling that Ava girl again? You sweet on her or something?"

"She's engaged," Sam informed.

"So? What's the point in saving the world if you can't get a little nookie once in a while, huh?"

"Dean, shut up."

"I'm just saying, Grace," Dean held his hand up defensively then noticed Sam scowling. "What?"

"Just a feeling. How far is it to Peoria?"

**Peoria, Ava Wilson's house, same night...**

The Winchesters quietly broke into the house, all the lights were off and they whisked their flashlights around, checking everything. Sam stalked through the main hallway, "Hello? Is anybody home?"

They entered the master bedroom and Sam stopped, "Oh my god."

A man in his pajamas laid covered in blood stained white sheets on his bed. Sam and Dean checked the man's body and around the bed. Grace walked over to the window, finding some yellow-ish powder, "Hey. Sulfur. Demon's been here."

Dean walked over to her, leaning out the window and helping her examine it. Sam approached then stopped at the corner of the bed. He picked up something shiny from a blood stain on the carpet and held it out in front of his face. Grace and Dean noticed it to and shined their flashlight. Sam turned to them with a shocked expression, "Ava!"

* * *

><p><strong>end of chapter 11!<strong>

**dont forget to review!**


	12. Woman's Scorn

**chapter 12!**

**disclaimer: i do not own Supernatural**

**rated M for language and gore**

**enjoy and R&R**

* * *

><p><strong><em>Recap of last chapter...<em>**

_Dean walked over to her, leaning out the window and helping her examine it. Sam approached then stopped at the corner of the bed. He picked up something shiny from a blood stain on the carpet and held it out in front of his face. Grace and Dean noticed it to and shined their flashlight. Sam turned to them with a shocked expression, "Ava!"_

**January 8, 2007, Sioux Falls, South Dakota, Bobby's place...**

Grace sat at Bobby's desk in front of her laptop, on the phone, "Yeah. I told you, Sam, nothing. There's nothing on Ava. It's like she just vanished. She's not in any database."

Sam sighed, "Um...okay. Thanks, Grace."

"I'm sorry, Sam," Grace leaned away from her laptop. "You know...Ellen sent me another email."

"About what?"

"A hotel in Cornwall, Connecticut. Two very freaky accidents in the past three weeks."

"Define very freaky."

"Well," Grace reopened the old mail. "A lady drowned in a bathtub. A man fell down the stairs with, may I add, his head turned completely one-eighty. You should check that out."

"Yeah, I will. Thanks. How's Max?"

"She's good. I'm taking her to an old friend tomorrow for some well-deserved martial arts training," Grace stood up, slowly pacing.

"Seriously? Is she that moody?"

"Well, she and Dean haven't really talked since what went down in Rivergrove."

"Yeah. She heard us...talking."

"Sam, don't bring it up if you don't want to talk about all right?" she sighed and stopped in the kitchen. "Look, check out the case and let me know how it goes."

"Okay."

Grace hung up and tossed her phone onto the table.

**January 22, 2007, Albuquerque, New Mexico, open field...**

Grace circled Max. They were both dressed in workout clothes; Grace seemed perfectly calm and collected but Max wheezed, sweat drenching her clothes. She hand her hands on her knees, trying the catch her breath. Grace glanced around, making sure no one was watching, "Again."

"I've already done this like a hundred times!" Max whined, panting.

"Correction: you've done this only six times. Again."

Max groaned then stood up straight. She stretched her shoulders and got into a fighting stance. Grace bit her lip, still circling, walking behind Max. She stopped and swung her right foot up, Max ducked as Grace's leg swung where her head once was. Max leaned on her hands and right foot as she kicked her other leg up. Grace deflected it and continued circling. Max pivoted and launched herself at Grace, her fist aimed. Grace grabbed her wrist and twirled, folding Max's hand into her own shoulder and forcing her to fall down. Max tucked her leg under her as she rolled back over her shoulder and back onto her feet. Grace nodded, "Good. See, two weeks and you're starting to get the hang of it."

"I already know how to fight," Max remained cautious.

"No, no. You know how to punch and kick. Basic fighting is good but not effective unless you want to really want to defeat your enemy. You're angry, okay. And if you really wanna be a big help on a hunt, you have to be able to handle yourself without any of us having to worry about you. See, your Dad, Sam, and I we know we all can handle ourselves. But you're 10. A child. If you train harder, study more...then as you get older, we won't worry about you as much. We'll know that you can handle yourself without being a burden or anything. I mean, you're not really a burden, but..."

"Okay, I get it. I'll bring them down. Too much of target. I get it. I do," she relaxed a bit. "But I know how to use a gun. I can fight better than any other 10 year old. I've helped Dad and Sammy figure out what they're hunting. I'm not completely useless."

"I know," Grace placed her hands on her hips. "I know. It's just...I guess I never expected to be teaching a kid how to fight off monsters and demons. And...now, you gotta fight of the Feds. Thanks to your genius father."

Max shrugged her shoulders, "He tends to like the attention, right?"

Grace gave her a look, "Five months with us and you're already developing an attitude towards him. Then again, I'm one to talk."

"What do you mean?"

Grace sat down on the grass, "I mean...even though I loved my dad, our times together weren't always...pleasant."

"You mean he was a dick?"

Grace raised a brow, "Yeah. Something Dean got from him. Don't get me wrong, Sam's got it too, but Dean...he's a lot like Dad more than he knows."

Max walked over and dropped down next to her, "You know...Dad's...cool and all. I mean, I respect him but...sometimes he makes me so crazy. He brings me along on hunts and treats me like I'm part of the team, but then he...turns around and tries to push me aside like I'm in his way."

"My dad used to do that too. He was just being overprotective," Grace reached her arm over and hugged Max. "Dean just hasn't fully comprehended the fact that he's your Dad. It's no one's fault, but he suddenly had the responsibilities thrown on him. I mean, it will take some time before he finally takes on the fatherly role. He doesn't really know what to do. I mean, I don't think you've even really taken on the daughterly role."

Max looked away, "Yeah, I guess."

"So," Grace pulled her arm back. "When we finish, you should call him. Talk to him. In time, things will work themselves out."

"Okay."

**February 2, 2007, on the road...**

Grace drove the Mustang north towards Bobby's place, munching on a sandwich while Max was asleep in the back. Just as she set her sandwich down, her cellphone rang. "Hello?"

"Grace?"

"Dean...?"

"Grace! Thank God. Is Max okay?"

"Yeah, she's fine Dean. We're on our way to Bobby's place. Hey, have you heard anything from Sam?"

"I did. He finally called me, all hysterical and everything."

"Is he all right? What happened?" Grace quickly glanced at the rearview mirror to check that Max was still asleep.

"Uh, nothing. He just, uh...look, I really think you should come over and see him. He needs us. All of us. He's been acting a little strange, Grace. Something's not right."

"Where is he? I'm almost at Bobby's place. I can drop Max off and come see you guys, all right? Just...keep Sam safe until I get there."

"Yeah. See you soon."

**February 3, 2007, motel room, ****Otter Creek, Iowa...**

Grace slammed the door of the Mustang and ran into the building. She nearly flew up the stairs, taking it two at a time. She turned into the hallway where a nervous man and a hooker waited outside a open room. A tweedy looking man walked out and so did Dean. Grace pounced on him, "Dean!"

"Grace! Ow!" he stumbled back a bit.

"I've been calling you and calling you. What happened? Where's Sam?" she asked, ignoring the tweedy man.

"I don't know," Dean rubbed his head and turned to the tweedy man. "The guy who was with me, have you seen him?"

"Yeah, he left before dawn in your car, and you should have gone with him, because now I'm going to have to charge you extra."

Dean shook his head and muttered, "Oh, son of a..."

"It's just policy, sir."

"Wait, Sam left?" Grace asked.

"Apparently. He knocked me out," Dean rubbed his head some more.

"Well, that's just great," Grace shook her head and turned to the tweedy man. "You. I need to use your computer."

"Now, why would I let you use my computer?"

**Lobby...**

Dean glared at the tweedy manager who was counting (counterfeit) money that was given to him. Grace picked up the office phone, awaiting the cellphone company's response. She glanced from the computer and spoke in a polite, motherly way, "Hi, so sorry to bother you, but my son snuck out of the house last night to go to a Justin Timberlake concert and he isn't back yet, and I'm starting to worry."

She paused, listening. "Yes, I understand boys will be boys, but my son is a diabetic and he's an hour late for his insulin shot. I need to find him, now. Yes, I'm on the website now, I just need to activate the GPS on his cellphone."

She ushered Dean over as she typed in the password. Dean grabbed a notepad and pen and quickly jot down the location of Sam's cellphone. "Yes, it worked. I know, Minnesota is a long way to go for a concert. Thank you so much for you help. Buh-Bye."

**February 3, 2007, The Sandpiper, Duluth, Minnesota...**

The Impala screeched to a halt as Dean killed the engine. Grace pulled out two pistols and tossed one to Dean as they ran inside. Dean got in first, "Sam!"

Jo was tied up to a pillar and gagged while Sam, teary-eyed, held a knife to her throat. Grace pointed her gun as well. "Sam, put the knife down."

"Grace, shoot me. I begged Dean to do it, but he wouldn't!" Sam cried out.

"Sam, don't do this."

"I told you I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right? Dean. Grace. Kill me, or I'm going to kill her. Please. You've be doing me a favor! Shoot me. I don't care who does it, just shoot me," Sam stepped back and spread his arms wide. "Shoot me!"

Dean hesitated a moment then slowly lowered his gun, "No, Sammy."

Sam, fuming, pointed his knife at Grace, "You better do it. Do it. You know me, Grace. You know I can't fight this. What's it gonna be, huh? Me or Jo?"

Grace frowned, "Neither."

Dean lunged, splashing water on Sam. Sam cried out as the water steamed on his skin. "That's holy water, you demonic son of a bitch."

Sam glared at them, his eyes solid black. He turned and jumped out of the window, disappearing from view. Grace placed her gun behind her back and pulled her knife, cutting Jo's bonds as Dean lept out of the window after the demon. Jo pulled the gag out of her mouth, "He was possessed?"

"Yes, Jo. Couldn't you tell? Sam would never hurt a girl like that on purpose," Grace stuffed her knife away and pulled her gun back out.

"A-Are you sure you knew?" Jo asked.

Grace turned to her and frowned, "I know my brother, Jo. Both of them. I know them better than they know themselves. Sam would never hurt you on purpose. He's terrible actor anyway."

She turned back to the window and flinched, hearing the boom of a gunshot. "Oh, no..."

She lept out of the window, landing in a crouch before taking off. "Dean? Dean!"

She ran through the warehouse and out onto the open dock, "Dean! Dean, dammit, where are you?"

"...Grace..."

"Dean?" Grace glanced over to the boat ramp, seeing Dean's slumped form half-way in the water. She hopped onto the ramp and dragged Dean out of the water. Dean gritted his teeth, clutching his shoulder in pain, "Where's S-Sam?"

"I don't know. I didn't see him run off," she panicked, placing her hand over Dean's wound. "Jo! Jo, over here! Jo!"

Jo came into view, brandishing a flashlight as she ran over to them, "Is he okay?"

"He's been shot," Grace struggled to lift Dean up. "Help me! I need to get the bullet out of him."

Jo moved over and wrapped her arm around Dean's waist, helping him walk while Grace dragged him closer to the bar. Once they got inside, Jo ran to the back office to grab the first aid kit. Grace sat Dean down at a table and got to work; removing his jacket and shirt. Jo brought the supplies, "What do you need me to do?"

Grace threw off her jacket and rolled her sleeves up, "Get a shot of rubbing alcohol and a bottle of whiskey. And get me some more gauze."

Jo obeyed and ran behind the bar. After an hour of Dean nearly kicking and screaming, Grace finally pulled the bullet out of Dean's shoulder. Dean sighed and gulped down the whiskey, "God, that hurt."

"Hey, it's not as bad as what I had to do to Dad," Grace started patching him up. "Had to use my bare fingers to dig the bullet out once."

Jo handed Grace more gauze, "Hey, um, Grace?"

"Yeah?"

"I know demons lie, but do they ever tell the truth too?"

Grace glanced at her real quick and shrugged, "Sometimes. Especially if they know it'll mess with your head. Why do you ask?"

"Doesn't matter," she said as Grace wrapped the gauze to Dean's shoulder. "So do you have any idea where he's headed to next?"

Dean cleared his throat, "We know he's going after hunters. The closest one lives in South Dakota."

"Okay. I'm done, Dean. Let's go," Grace grabbed Dean's shirt and helped him into it.

Jo cleaned up the kit, "Gimme a minute, I'll come with you."

"Yeah. You're not coming," Dean stated as he eased into his jacket.

"The hell I'm not. I'm a part of this now."

Grace sighed as she put on her jacket, "Jo, I know you wanna help, but this is a family matter. Sam's our brother. We'll take care of this."

"I can help. I'm a decent fighter. If there's three of us, we can take him down easily-"

"Jo, she said no," Dean loomed over her. "And if you follow us, I'll tie you right back to that post and leave you here. Stay out of this, all right?"

Jo stared at him, surprised by his tone. Dean turned and walked to the door, Grace followed suit. "Wait," Jo called. "Here. Take these."

She held out a small bottle of painkillers. Grace grabbed them and started to the door, "Thanks a lot, Jo."

Dean hesitated a moment, "I'll call you later, okay."

He turned and followed Grace out of the tavern to the car. Grace slid into the driver's seat as Dean groaned his way into the passenger's. "You're not gonna call Jo, are you?"

Dean sighed, shaking his head, "Grace, let's just focus on Sam, please? I don't wanna be worrying about some schoolgirl."

"Good," Grace said as she started the car.

Dean took two pills and groaned from the pain in his shoulder. Grace pulled out her cellphone and tossed it to Dean, "Call Bobby. You need to warn him."

"Yeah," he held the phone to his ear. "Dammit."

"What?"

"Line's dead. Demon bitch probably cut it," Dean tossed the phone to her. "What's with you lately? You've been oddly calm ever since Dad died."

"Oh, _you're _gonna bring up Dad? Wow, after how many months of telling Sam off?" she scoffed.

"Look, in all that's happened between me and Sam, I've noticed you acting like you don't even care about Dad's death."

"Now you're sounding like Sam," she muttered. "Dean, I loved Dad. I was devastated when he died and I'm dealing with it in my own way. Sam likes to talk about it, you like to ignore it, I like to deal with it. What's wrong with our different grieving methods?"

Dean glanced out the window, "I don't know. It's just...easier to talk about it with you than with Sam. I guess we're both like Dad in that way."

Grace shrugged, "I don't know, Dean. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only adult. Even with Dad around..."

"Yeah, I get it. You're like the...the glue that holds us together."

Grace gave him a look, "Glue? Really?"

"Hey, I'm trying here."

Grace laughed and shook her head, "Let's just focus on the demon in Sam, please?"

**Bobby's house, Sioux Falls, South Dakota, February 3, 2007...**

Dean walked over to where the demon was tied up and slammed him awake. The demon grunted awake, shaking his head. Grace smirked at the demon and pointed to the ceiling, "Hey."

The demon glanced up, jaw-dropping at the sight of the Devil's Trap. He glanced back at Dean and smiled, "Dean. back from the dead. Getting to be a regular thing for you, isn't it? Like a cockroach."

"How about I smack that smartass right out of your mouth?" Dean threatened.

"Oh, careful, now. Wouldn't want to bruise this fine packaging."

"Oh, don't worry about that, sunshine," Grace taunted and grabbed a bucket. "See, this won't hurt Sam as much as it'll hurt you."

She threw the water on the demon who screamed in agony as the holy water steamed on Sam's body. Dean ushered Grace back, "Feel like talking now?"

"Sam's still my meat puppet. I'll make him bite off his tongue."

"No, you won't be in him long enough," Dean glared at him. "Bobby?"

Bobby opened his book and began chanting, "Exorcisamus te, omnes in mundus spiritus omnes satanica potestas, omnes incursio.._._"

Dean leaned in close to the demon who cringed in pain, "See, whatever bitch-boy master plan you demons are cooking up? You're not getting Sam. You understand me? Because I'm gonna kill every one of you first."

The demon tossed his head back and laughed evilly. "You really think that's what this is about? The master plan? I don't give a rat's ass about the master plan."

Bobby continued, "Humiliares sub potente magnu dei..."

"Oops! Doesn't seem to be working," the demon chuckled. "See, I learned a few new tricks. Spiritus in mundus un glorum suarum umitite palatum iram domine_..._"

The fire from the fireplace flared up as the room began to shake. Grace leaned against a stack of books as Bobby walked around. Dean tried to steady himself, "This isn't going like I pictured! What's going on, Bobby?"

Bobby checked Sam's body and stopped on his forearm, pulling the sleeve back to reveal a branding on his arm. "It's a binding link! It's like a lock! He's locked himself inside Sam's body!"

"What the hell do we do now?" Grace shouted. "He's still muttering!"

"I don't know!"

The demon suddenly threw his back and screamed. The shaking increased as the ceiling cracked right through the circle, freeing Sam. The demon smiled, his eyes shining black, "There. That's better."

He jerked his to the left and Bobby suddenly flew into the wall. The demon jerked his head to the right and sent Dean sprawling into the corner on his bad shoulder. The demon burst free of his bonds and pounced on Grace, straddling her waist, "I've been waiting to do this."

He closed his hands around her neck, squeezing hard. "You sons of bitches sent me to hell. I'm only here to return the favor-"

Dean tackled the demon, freeing Grace. The demon rolled onto Dean, pinning him against the wall, "You. It was your idea to send me back there. You wanna know what Hell is like? It's a prison, made of bone and flesh and blood and fear...and you sent me back there!"

He punched Dean repeatedly. Dean smirked, blood dripping from his nose, "Meg."

"Nope. Not anymore. I'm Sam, now," Meg sneered and punched Dean again. "All that I had to hold onto was that I would climb out one day, and that I was going to torture you, nice and slow. Like pulling the wings off an insect."

Meg reared her fist back to hit Dean again, when Bobby appeared with a searing hot poker. He pressed it against Sam's skin. Meg screamed in pain then suddenly exited Sam's body. Meg flew past Bobby and up the chimney. Sam gasped as he came to his senses. Dean crawled over to him, clutching his wounded shoulder, "Sammy?"

Sam glanced at Grace then at Dean, "Did I miss anything?"

Dean reared back and slammed his fist into Sam's cheek. Sam clutched his face in confusion as Dean rolled away, still in pain. "Ow."

**Later that night...**

Dean sat at the kitchen table while Grace nursed Sam's arm wound. Max filled the icebag up and handed it to Dean. "Thanks," he muttered.

Grace rubbed her neck, glaring at Sam as Bobby walked in, "What is it, Bobby?"

"You kids ever hear of a hunter named Steve Wandell?" Bobby asked, knowing the answer.

"Steve. I remember him," Grace said, moving the collar of her shirt down. "Nice guy."

Dean swallowed hard, "Why do you ask?"

"Just heard from a friend. Wandell's dead. Murdered in his own house. You wouldn't know anything about that?"

"No, sir. Never heard of the guy," Dean shook his head furiously.

"Dean...," Sam began but trailed off with a look from Dean.

"Good. Keep it that way. Wandell's buddies are looking for someone or something to string up, and they're not going to slow down to listen to reason. You understand what I'm saying?" Bobby stared at them pointedly. "Max, you mind getting Sam's stuff?"

"Sure," she walked out of the kitchen.

"We'd better hit the road," Dean stood up and glared at Sam. "If, uh, you can remember where we parked the car."

"Wait," Grace stood up and rolled her sleeve up, revealing bracelets on her arm all with similar charms. She took off two and handed them to Dean. "Take these."

"What are they?" Sam asked, taking one from Dean.

"Charms. They'll fend off possession. Dad had them made a few years ago. Never got to give them to you on account of Sam leaving," she shrugged her shoulders, ignoring Sam's guilty look. "Meg's still out there; this'll stop her from getting back up in you."

"That sounds vaguely dirty, but uh, thanks," Dean pocket the bracelet as Max walked back in. "Hey, we're leaving."

"Already? You just got back," she whined, placing Sam's jacket on the table.

"I know, but I got things to take care of, okay? Be a good girl and stay with Bobby," he gave her a one armed hug. "I'll call you, okay?"

Max nodded, "Okay. Be careful, Dad."

"You, too. Thanks, Grace. Bobby," Dean walked towards the door as Sam waved.

Grace sighed and followed the boys outside, "Dean, Sam, wait. Look, Bobby thinks he knows what happened to Steve, but I know the truth. Which one of you killed him?"

"What makes you think we killed him?" Dean asked, standing defensively.

"Because you both look guilty."

Sam swallowed hard, glancing at Dean. Grace's intense glare shifted back and forth between them, "Well?"

"Meg made me kill him," Sam finally spoke.

"Sam."

"No, Dean. She's deserves to know," Sam urged.

"Sam, I don't need details. I just needed to know who did it. I know it was Meg inside you but...no one else needs to know about this, all right?" Grace whispered.

"We know. Thanks, Grace," Dean nodded and turned to leave.

"You guys be careful, okay?"

"Yeah," Sam followed Dean down the porch steps.

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><p><strong>end of chapter!<strong>

**please review**


	13. Trickster

**Chapter 13**

**Disclaimer: i do not own Supernatural**

**Rated M for gore violence, language, and some sensuality **

**enjoy and R&R**

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><p><em><strong>Recap of last chapter...<strong>_

_"We know. Thanks, Grace," Dean nodded and turned to leave._

_"You guys be careful, okay?"_

_"Yeah," Sam followed Dean down the porch steps._

**Kings Lair Hotel, February 13, 2007, Springfield, Ohio...  
><strong>

Grace quickly turned the engine off of the mustang. Bobby quickly got out and Max followed. Grace led them into the building and up to room 12. She knocked on the door. She heard heavy footsteps approach the door then the turning of the lock. Sam opened the door, "Hey, Grace. Bobby. Max."

"Hi," Grace walked in past him. "Hey, Dean."

Dean got up off the bed, "Hey, Grace. Max!"

Max ran to him and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug, "Hi, Dad."

"Thanks for coming," Sam led Bobby and Grace to the beds to sit down.

"Thank God you're here," Dean glared at Sam and sat down. Max took Dean's chili cheese fries and started eating. Bobby and Grace sat down on the other bed across from Sam and Dean.

"So, what didn't you want to talk on the phone about?" Bobby asked.

"It's this job that we're working," Sam scoffed. "We weren't sure you guys would believe us."

"Uh, I think there's a lot we can believe," Grace smirked, narrowing her eyes in confusion.

"Yeah, I know," Sam scratched the back of his neck. "It's just, we've never seen anything like it-"

"Not even close."

"-and we thought we could use some fresh eyes."

"Well, why don't you begin with the beginning?" Bobby suggested.

"Okay," Sam cleared his throat. "So, it all started when we caught wind of an obit. See, a professor took a nosedive from a fourth story window, only there's a campus legend that the building's haunted. So we pretexted as reporters from the local paper. So, I was talking to a couple...the girlfriend believed the place was haunted. Some kind of urban legend or what-not. They didn't seem all that bright, but...I went to go talk to Dean and he was downing shots of purple nurples."

Sam glared at Dean, "I tried to get him to leave, but he was to busy putting the moves on a 'feisty, little wildcat' named Starla."

"Starla?" Grace raised a brow.

"Yes," Sam replied before Dean could. "Drunken, white trash girl in fish-nets trying to keep her liquor down. Then Dean tried to suggest I hook up with her sister-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a minute."

"What?" Sam snapped.

"Come on, dude. That's not how it happened," Dean frowned at him.

"No?" Sam smirked, glancing at Grace and Bobby. "You never drank a purple nurple?"

"Well...that part's true," Dean shrugged as Max stuffed her mouth with more chili cheese fries. "But I never said she was a 'feisty, little wildcat'. And her name wasn't Starla."

"Then what was her name?" Sam folded his arms over his chest.

"I don't know," Dean turned to Grace and Bobby. "But she was a classy chick. She was a grad student, anthropology, and folklore. We were talking about local ghost stories. You know, we had a little toast. She complimented me on my charm. I begged her to tell me about the local urban legend. But...she couldn't resist me. She said it was like staring into the sun."

Sam and Max rolled their eyes. Grace licked her lips, trying to suppress a smile. Dean continued with his side of the story, "Then Sam shows up with a bitchface and nags me. I asked for five more minutes and he started yammering away. You know, 'blah blah blah blah' and all that crap."

"Right. And that's how it really happened," Sam nodded sarcastically and Dean shrugged. "I don't sound like that, Dean."

"That's what you sound like to me."

"Okay," Grace motioned for them to stop. "What's going with you two?"

"Nothing," Sam shook his head. "Noth-it's nothing."

"Sam, you guys are bickering like an old married couple," Grace glanced at Bobby who agreed.

"No, see, married couples can get divorced," Dena got up and walked into the kitchen area. "Me and him? We're like Siamese twins."

"It's conjoined twins!" Sam corrected.

"See what I mean?"

"Look, it-" Sam sighed tiredly "-we've just been on the road too long. Tight quarters, and all that. Don't worry about it."

"Okay," Grace shrugged.

"Anyway," Sam slumped his shoulders and continued. "We figured since it was a haunting, we'd check out the scene of the crime. We posed as electricians and the janitor let us in. Decent guy...been working there six years. He let us into the professor's office. He told us about the death...said he was the one who found the body. And he told us the professor wasn't alone. And of course, Dean starts asking questions with his mouth stuffed with nuts-"

"Come on, I ate one, maybe two," Dean argued.

"Just let me tell it, okay?" Sam demanded and huffed. "Anyway, the janitor said he saw the professor go up with a girl, but he never saw her leave. He told us the professor was infamous for bringing a lot of girls to his office. Then we got back to the hotel."

Sam glared at Dean who rolled his eyes. "I sat down, thought I'd look up the history of the building. But, no! My computer was frozen on a Asian porn site."

"I didn't touch it."

"I know you did!" Sam snapped.

Bobby rolled his eyes, "But did you dig up anything about the building?"

"No. History's clean," Sam shrugged, baffled.

"Then it's not a haunting," Max pointed out, eating the last fry.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," Dean smiled sarcastically at her and she stuck her tongue out at him. "To tell you the truth, we're not really sure."

"What do you mean 'you're not sure'?" Grace asked, frowning at Dean.

"Well, it's weird," Sam spoke cautiously.

"What is?"

"This next part we, uh, we didn't it happen ourselves exactly, but it's pretty fuckin' weird. Even for us," Dean opened a beer bottle.

"Explain, please," Grace urged.

"One of the kids I talked to...Curtis?" Sam sighed, struggling to explain. "He claimed to have been...he said he was...abducted by aliens...?"

"Aliens?" Grace stared in disbelief.

"Yeah," Dean nodded.

"Aliens?" Bobby echoed.

"Yeah."

"Look, even if they're somehow real...they wouldn't be abducting people," Grace pointed out.

"Hey, believe me. We know," Dean sipped his beer.

"My whole life I've never found evidence of a honest-to-God abduction," Bobby added. "It's all cranks and pranks."

"Yeah, that's what we thought," Sam got up and started pacing. "But...we figured we would at least talk to the guy. He was drinking, but he agreed to tell us what happened. He said he blacked out, didn't know where he was...the usual."

Grace and Bobby nodded. Dean continued the story, "He told us the aliens did 'tests' and they probed him. Said they did it again and again and again. And he said that wasn't the worst of it."

"No?" Grace frowned.

"Nope," Sam smirked. "He said they made him slow dance."

"Are you guys exaggerating, again?" Bobby narrowed his eyes at them.

"No," Sam and Dean replied in unison.

"Then," Max caught their attention. "Isn't he just, you know, nuts?"

"We're not so sure," Dean shook his head. "We searched for any...evidence that there was an abduction and sure enough there was. A giant scorch mark. Perfect circle. We scratched our heads over it, but what could we do? So we kept digging. We talked to another student...from the same fraternity...he didn't seem bothered by Curtis's _abduction._"

"Okay, so?" Grace motioned for him to continue.

"We talked to him some more then Sam got emotional and started hugging the poor kid," Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. "Told the guy he was 'too precious for this world'."

"I never said that!" Sam snapped defensively.

"You're always saying pansy stuff like that," Dean waved him off. "Anyway, the kid said Curtis had it coming. Said he was a dick."

"Then we got back to the hotel, and my computer was missing," Sam crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Dean.

"I didn't touch it," Dean sighed.

"I know you did," Sam turned to Grace and Bobby. "I put up with a lot from him."

"Please, I'm a joy to be around," Dean muttered, sipping his beer.

Sam pointed at Dean like a little kid, "His dirty socks in the sink, his food in the fridge-"

"What's wrong with my food?" Dean frowned, offended.

"Its not food anymore. It's Darwinism!"

Grace pushed Sam to sit on the bed and turned to Dean, "Did you take his computer?"

"Serves him right, but no."

"Well, I didn't lose it," Sam pouted, glaring at the wall. "Cause I don't lose things."

"Right because you're Mr Perfect."

"Okay, okay," Bobby motioned for them to calm down. "Just tell us what happened next."

"There was more victim," Dean said, still glaring at Sam.

Sam rubbed his face in frustration, "Now, we didn't see this one ourselves, either. But we kinda put it together with the evidence. But this guy...he was a research scientist. Animal testing."

"A dick, which fits the pattern," Dean added. "We had no clue what it was, so we had to check it out ourselves."

"What'd you find on the body?" Grace asked.

Dean laughed sarcastically, "There wasn't much of a body to look at. Only pieces."

Grace and Bobby exchanged glances, "Was he mutilated?"

"More like torn to shreds. There was a belly scale from an alligator," Sam informed.

"Alligator? In the sewer?" Bobby narrowed his eyes in disbelief. "That's more insane than the alien abduction thing, you know that, right?"

"Yeah. We decided to search for it anyway, so we split up."

"Did you find anything?" Grace asked.

"Yeah, just not in the sewer," Dean glared, once again, at Sam. "He slashed _all four _of my tires! And I found his money clip there. I know he did it."

"For the hundredth time, Dean...I didn't touch your car!" Sam groaned in frustration. "He wouldn't give me back my money clip. I had to wrestle him for it. And then he still would..."

All eyes went to Max who was cracking up on Dean's bed like she just heard a funny joke. She glanced at Dean and Sam's confused, frustrated faces and continued laughing. She coughed a bit as she tried to calm herself, "Sorry, sorry, I just...this thing that you're hunting...it's got you both wrapped around it's fingers."

"You know what it is?" Dean frowned in disbelief.

"Yes, it's obvious," Max glanced at Bobby and Grace for support. They shrugged their shoulders and Max frowned in annoyance. She got up and walked over to them, "Look, Sammy, Dad didn't steal your computer. And Dad, Sam didn't touch your car. It's what you're hunting."

"Which is...?"

"A trickster."

"That's what I thought," Dean nodded.

"What?" Sam frowned at him dubiously. "No, you didn't."

"You guys were the biggest clue," Max went to her backpack and pulled out and old book. "Tricksters create chaos and mischief as easy as breathing. It knows you're after it, and turned you two against each other."

Bobby raised his chin in thought, "Oh, yeah. I yanked one several years ago in Queens."

"So, what is it? Spirit, demon, what?"

"Demigod," Max flipped through her book. "Thanks to Bobby, I've read about them. There's Loki in Scandinavia. There's Anansi in west Africa. Dozens of them. They're immortal, and they can create things out of thin air. As real as you and me, and can make them vanish just as quick. Plus, the victims are another clue. Tricksters like to target the 'high and mighty' to knock them down a peg, you know? Deadly pranks."

"What do these things look like?" Dean asked in thought.

"Like normal humans, mostly," she shrugged and Bobby nodded.

"And what human do we know who's been at ground zero this whole time?" Dean stared meaningfully at Sam who nodded in realization.

"The janitor," the said in unison.

"Okay," Grace placed her hands on her hips. "Let's work out a plan."

**Crawford Hall, Springfield University, that night...**

Grace and Bobby followed Sam through the halls, all of them held large stakes in their hands. Bobby left to cover the side entrance of the lecture hall while Grace and Sam walked through the two entrances. Inside, the trickster was lounging in the seats while Dean stood between him and the girls on the stage. "That fight you guys had outside - That was a trick?" the trickster asked Dean who shrugged and pulled out a stake of his own. "Hmm. Not bad. Wanna see a real trick?"

Sam froze upon hearing the sound of a chainsaw. He turned around and was knocked down by a masked man with a chainsaw. Grace ran over kicked the man's arm, throwing him off balance so he wouldn't slice Sam in half. Sam crawled away as the masked man turned to Grace. He raised his chainsaw and Grace instinctively held her stake up to block him. She stumbled back, her stake in two. Sam got up and tackled the masked man. Grace crawled away as Bobby helped Sam keep the masked man down. Grace glanced up just as the two women tossed Dean off the stage and in front of the trickster. She noticed his stake laying not three feet from her. The trickster stood up, "Nice toss, ladies."

Grace grabbed the stake and tossed it to Dean. He got up and stabbed the trickster in the chest. He twisted the stake in deeper. The masked man and the two women both disappeared. Dean pulled the stake out and the trickster fell over, dead.

"Hey," Dean walked over to Grace. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Let's go."

**Outside...**

Max waited in boredom. She snapped her head up as Sam, Dean, Grace, and Bobby came staggering hurriedly out of the building. Max quickly opened the car door and crawled inside and Bobby did the same. Grace moved to get in on the other side while Dean went for the driver's seat. "Dean," Sam paused on the passenger's side. "I just want to say that I'm, um, uh..."

"Hey," Dean nodded. "Me, too."

They shared a brotherly stare. Grace glanced at them both with slight panic, "You two are cute when you make-up, can we just go?"

"Right," Dean quickly got in and Sam did to.

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><p><strong>end of chapter 13!<strong>

**please review**


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